Children of Time, Bonus Episode: A Study in Family
by Wholmes Productions
Summary: With Torchwood no longer a threat, the healing for the Doctor and his Companions can at last begin... but will the Bruce-Partington case ever be solved? And will Sherlock and Beth be allowed to stay together? Expansion episode for 'Together Or Not At All'.
1. Just Breathe

**Authors' Note:** Those of you who missed the note from last post, a fair portion of this episode is going to be decidedly NSFW, rather more than any previous episodes, so we're giving it an 'M' rating just to be safe. We'll still rate individual scenes appropriately, though!

 **==Chapter 1==**

 **Just Breathe**

 _It's hard to let go. Even when what you're holding onto is full of thorns, it's hard to let go. Maybe especially then._

– Stephen King, Joyland

The TARDIS's twitter was one of relief as she re-entered the Vortex, Holmes wincing in empathy at the ship's audible weariness. Poor thing, she was exhausted, they all were after tonight's ordeal, Nikola and Beth looking almost on the point of collapse... but there had still been work to do before they could finally get the hell out of Torchwood, not least of which was dismantling Nikola's machine a second time...

The Doctor smiled up at the central column, then gratefully at Nikola, nodding at the console. "You could seriously take over my job, you know."

Nikola grinned back faintly, shaking his head. "I'd never dream of trying to usurp your place, Doctor – she wouldn't have me."

"Aww." The Doctor winked. "I wouldn't be so sure..."

"You should have seen Nikola in action, Doctor," Watson chuckled, "he makes flying her look easy!"

"Oi!"

Beth stood at the back of the room, holding hands with Sherlock... which didn't feel as comforting as it should have. She couldn't join in the banter; she couldn't even make herself look up from the floor. She felt as though some horrible, invisible weight was slowly pressing down on her, and she didn't know what to do about it.

Holmes squeezed Beth's hand gently, at a total loss for what else to do. His wife hadn't spoken a word since taking off, he shuddered to think of what those monsters had done to her that he hadn't deduced yet... and he hadn't the least idea of how to ask her, he wasn't at all sure he even _wanted_ to know.

He saw the Doctor glance over at him and Beth, then at Watson, who nodded and came over. "Well, come along, you two. Next stop, medbay."

Beth looked up, then, and blinked in surprise. "Why?"

"Because I intend to record the Great Skeleton's current weight for future blackmail whenever he skips too many meals."

Beth couldn't help a slight laugh—it was funny and oh-so-true...

Though Watson's tone was light, Holmes read the look in the doctor's eye: Beth's faint laugh had been enough to make her wince. "Shall we, love?" he said gently, looking at her cut lips. "At the very least, you should have that seen to."

She winced again, reminded suddenly that her lips were still throbbing, and sighed. "All right..."

* * *

She'd never been to the medbay before. The walls were white, but the space had the same warm, organic look of the control room. Any other time, she would have poked around in fascination, but now... Now she silently headed over to the nearest cot and took a seat, folding her hands in her lap and waiting for John.

Holmes sat beside her as Watson washed up and retrieved his instruments, then began scanning the detective, tutting at the results. "And before you even ask, Holmes, you are going on a strict diet plan for the next two weeks. Any deviations and I'll set Mrs. Hudson on you."

Beth smirked slightly and shook her head. It was nice to watch someone _else_ fuss at Sherlock, for a change...

Holmes sighed, but nodded meekly – he knew from experience that it was no idle threat. Watson raised a sceptical eyebrow, then turned to Beth, smiling kindly. "Beth, I'm sorry to have to ask... but are there any other injuries that I should know about?"

Beth paled, not ready for this. "Not—" she paused infinitesimally, remembering something—"really, no."

Holmes squeezed her hand again, heart aching at her obvious distress. _I'm here, love... he can't hurt you any more..._

Her breath hitched, something in her trying to stir at his touch. She hadn't wanted anyone but him to see _it_ and only then because it would have been unavoidable... But maybe here in the TARDIS, there was something that could erase it so that it wouldn't haunt either of them until it healed naturally. She looked down and nodded. "Below my collar," she murmured. "It's not really an _injury_ , but…" She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress and pulled her collar down.

Holmes's breath caught at the sight of the angry red bite-mark on Beth's skin... He had to forcibly keep his fists from clenching, gut roiling in fury and nausea. If only he'd had time to do more than put a bullet through the Colonel's head...

Watson's lips were pressed tightly together, his own eyes blazing, but managed to respond with commendable calm, "Not to worry, Beth, we'll have that taken care of in no time." He passed the instrument slowly over the mark, Holmes gratefully noting the care his friend was taking to not touch Beth directly.

Beth kept her head down and closed her eyes, shivering. Her skin felt decidedly odd, as if it was healing in the space of half a minute. _That's probably what_ _ **is**_ _happening_. As he moved on to her bruises—or at least, some of them—she squirmed at the ticklish sensation.

"You should have seen Holmes the first time he came in here," Watson said lightly, "he was a right old mess."

Holmes nodded, wincing at the memory. "That'll teach me to do a stakeout on a yeti without back-up."

She frowned, opening her eyes and looking up in surprise. "Good grief, a _yeti_?"

"Has no one told you yet of how I first met the Doctor?" Holmes didn't mind telling a story against himself, especially if it helped to distract Beth from her thoughts.

She shook her head, and John smiled—almost a little wickedly, she thought. Thank goodness these two were falling back so quickly into their old patterns... "They ran into each other in Tibet," he said, "almost literally."

Holmes gave a pained grin. "Well, more like that yeti threw me at him – though it wasn't an actual yeti..." Poor Cheng Wei, he had been so brave...

Ouch. Beth smiled sympathetically but wanly.

"Head still now," John said gently. She obeyed as he moved the device towards her mouth, letting it hover over her lips. "And if I recall correctly," he said to Sherlock, "that led to you getting introduced to the TARDIS, from the inside out." He chuckled, and Beth thought fleetingly that she could certainly understand how Sally fell in love with him in the first place. "I wish I could have seen your face!"

Beth made small noises of discomfort for a few seconds as the device sealed up the cuts in her lips, then stopped as suddenly as the pain did. _Wow, that really is incredible_...

"There we are, good as new." Holmes was glad to see Watson looking visibly more composed by the time he'd finished – being able to actually _do_ something must have helped. "And now, if you'll excuse me..." The doctor smothered a yawn as he put the instruments away. "I'll see you both at breakfast –" He cracked another yawn and grinned ruefully; "in about a week."

Holmes grinned back affectionately. "Sleep well, Watson." His friend had more than earned the rest, the last 24 hours had been brutal.

Beth's expression softened. Poor John looked so exhausted. "Goodnight... and thank you."

John smiled kindly, his concern only too apparent, and she looked down again. She didn't _want_ his sympathy or his concern—she didn't deserve them. "Goodnight, Beth." He left them alone, taking the phone he'd borrowed from the Doctor out of his pocket as he exited. "...Sally? Yes, love, it's me, are you all right? Yes, sweetheart, everybody's all right here, too, I promise, please don't cry..."

Beth was still avoiding Sherlock's gaze. _I can't believe I actually yelled at him for not wanting to feel. How naive can you get?_ All she wanted to do right now was to _stop_ feeling. Well, that, and... "I'd like to take a shower," she said in a small voice. She desperately needed to scrub the last few hours off her skin.

"Yes, of course." It was a relief to have _something_ he could do for her, however small. "Come with me." He drew Beth to her feet, and led her across the room to a door that he was certain had only materialised a few moments ago.

Beth blinked at the new door. She hadn't known that the TARDIS could do that... rearrange her own space so casually... She followed Sherlock quietly, knowing that her current state wasn't ideal: resting in her cocoon away from emotion and memory as much as possible. But it felt so much better than the alternative, and she didn't want to come out of it... _I wish I could go full-out catatonic_... For now, though, she needed to clean herself.

* * *

 _(Scene rating: S)_

The door opened as they approached, revealing a Japanese-style bathroom, a large pool of steaming water set into the middle of the floor and a shower stall in one corner. Holmes hesitated, chiding himself for not thinking about this earlier. "Beth, if you'd rather be alone to bathe..."

"No, please don't go," she said hurriedly, then bit her lip. All the wishing in the solar system wasn't going to keep her emotional fallout from happening, and she didn't want to be alone when it hit. _Not to mention the fact that his presence is getting to be as necessary for you as breathing?_ "Looks like that shower can hold two..."

Holmes looked at her uncertainly – did she really want him to stay? With no idea of what else Moran had done to her, he could so easily bring back memories she wasn't ready to deal with yet... _But you don't_ _ **know**_ _that – and how is Beth supposed to trust you if you won't do the same for her? Let her decide what she can handle._ He nodded and squeezed her hand gently. "Whatever you wish, _cherie_."

"Thank you," she said softly, and let go of his hand to begin unbuttoning her dress. _Yet another piece of clothing I'll never want to wear again_...

He went over and turned on the water, making sure it wasn't too hot, then sat down to remove his shoes and stockings. God, that shower was going to feel _heavenly_ , he hadn't properly bathed since Paris...

Watching Sherlock reminded her that she had to remove her own boots and stockings, and she leaned against the wall to do that. Then she returned to unbuttoning the dress, and pulled it up and off of her, clad only in a bra and petticoat and underwear now. _"Oh, naughty girl..."_ She shuddered, unwillingly remembering Moran's delight in discovering that she hadn't been wearing a corset.

Holmes looked up at Beth in time to catch the shudder, and his eyes widened further in horror. Those livid bruises on her upper arms... Why hadn't she said something earlier? _Maybe, you idiot, because she didn't want to undress in front of anyone else?_

She met his gaze then quickly dropped hers, unable to handle the eye-contact. _You don't deserve it. You don't deserve his pity_. "You could yell at me, you know," she said abruptly, as she pulled off the petticoat. "I deserve it for being a hypocrite. Did the exact same thing you did…" She wished he _would_ yell at her; maybe then she'd feel better. At least if he could be angry, she'd have something outside of herself to fight...

 _Oh, sweetheart..._ "Beth," he said softly, "do you honestly think I would? After my own experiences with Moriarty... after what he did to the Doctor... I can imagine, somewhat, what it must have been like for you."

She looked up, eyes wide with sudden, unshed tears. "I was still being stupid!"

He drew her down onto the bench beside him, her hands in his. "You were afraid, Beth, just like I was. And Moriarty was always adept at discovering a person's fears, and using them against them – even before he became Time sensitive." _Dear me, Mr. Holmes. Dear me..._

She leaned against him. "He was going to... he was already breaking the deal... with me... with you..." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "You weren't supposed to get hurt... I thought I could at least trust _him_ to keep his word, even if he bent it a little... and then he proved he didn't intend to keep it... I had to stop him, as much as I didn't want to..."

He put one arm carefully around her shoulders, murmuring, "I know, sweetheart... Even Nikola didn't foresee his becoming a Time Lord." Who could have? The very notion was horrifying.

She closed her eyes. "Now I'm back to square one, where I don't know _what_ to do..." At least surrendering to Moriarty took the choice from her, the one where she had to choose between this era and her original one.

"You don't have to, Beth," Holmes said softly, "just let it go for now _." And_ _ **you**_ _be sure to talk with the Doctor, soon._ He kissed her hair, then nodded down at himself, still mostly dressed. "Now, if you'll allow me..." Smiling shyly, "Unless you'd rather...?"

Smiling wanly, she nuzzled at his shoulder, reaching for the buttons of his waistcoat and starting to undo them. "Unless I'd rather undress my gorgeous husband?" she murmured. "Yes, please..." No matter her mood, it was something she'd never grow tired of. Blushing, he let her work on him unhindered, never taking his eyes off her.

"I'm sorry I spoiled our date," she said softly. "I wish now I would have stayed..." All the way through, until Sherlock and John called it a night. Maybe Moriarty wouldn't have tried to get all three of them like that. She didn't even remember falling asleep in the cab, which she figured must have been sealed and gassed...

Holmes looked down at that, reddening further. "And if I hadn't upset you in the first place..." He made himself look back up at her, eyes full of remorse. "I'm so sorry, Beth – if I'd only escorted you home!" He'd known the risks – hell, he'd _seen_ the Torchwood agents coming for him at Baker Street, and they'd still caught him flatfooted.

Her eyes widened—the last thing she wanted was to make _him_ feel guilty, especially over something he'd had no control over! "Sweetheart, it wasn't your fault! You can't… you can't be with me 24/7."

If only... "I-I know... but..." Damn it, he _should_ have told Beth what he was considering... Raising her hopes at that point couldn't have made things any worse!

She pulled his waistcoat off and started on his shirt. "It all… it all worked out..." Moriarty and Moran were dead, and Torchwood crippled, and nobody else was hurt or killed. That was all that mattered.

"Mm..." But why should Beth have had to pay the highest price for that out of everyone?

Beth's attention was drawn to Sherlock's pale throat like a magnet, even though she was exhausted and absolutely unready to have sex. It was habit by now, and she couldn't help gently nuzzling him there as she finished with his shirt.

 _Ohh..._ His breath caught, a soft moan escaping, then blushed deeply, giving Beth a look that was half apologetic, half reproachful. In spite of everything, he was having a hard enough time keeping his hands off her, without her taking advantage of his weaknesses!

She echoed his blush. _Oops_. "Sorry," she said sheepishly.

 _Well, at least she's feeling bold enough to take advantage of you, that has to be a good sign._ He decided to take a risk of his own, and nodded at her bra, gaze questioning.

She bit her lip. _Would it hurt... his touch could never hurt._ She nodded slowly.

He rose, drawing her up with him, then turned her around gently and carefully undid the clasp. "All right?" he murmured. _This is for you, cherie, if you need me to stop..._

Even as she shivered, she nodded, whispering, "Your hands are nothing like his…" Sherlock's were thin and careful and affectionate... nothing at all like Moran's large, rough, demanding hands...

...Holmes was suddenly very glad that Beth couldn't see his face just now. _All right, take a deep breath, getting angry isn't going to change whatever happened..._ He managed to continue on, delicately slipping the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, though he couldn't keep his hands from trembling.

She felt his trembling and frowned. As the bra slipped off her arms completely, she turned to him, gaze silently questioning.

He met her gaze squarely, eyes sorrowful but gleaming with anger. "I wish I'd shot the bastard when I first came back." He felt sure Lestrade would have turned a blind eye, given the circumstances.

Her eyes widened. _Oh. ...of_ _ **course**_ _he's upset about Moran, idiot_. All the same, it took what was left of her willpower not to squirm at the anger in his eyes, even if it wasn't directed at her. She took his hands and held them, for both their sakes. _Yes, now I wish that "The Empty House"_ _ **had**_ _gone differently, but..._ "At least… you shot him when I needed you to."

His hands tightened on hers, whispering, "I couldn't... couldn't let him hurt you again." He'd come so close to losing her a second time.

She gave him another wan smile—having just shot his precious Professor, she had no doubt that Moran had been about to kill her. "I think you and John saved my life."

Holmes shivered involuntarily, not doubting it for a moment. "Well..." He lifted his hand to touch her cheek, cupping it. "It was about time we returned the favour..."

She leaned into his touch, thrilling to feel it again, and turned her head to kiss his palm. Then she bent down to pull off her underwear, stepped into the shower, and looked back. "Coming?"

" _Oui, cherie,_ " he smiled, and quickly finished undressing, though he was dismayed to find that his body was already betraying him, which was impossible to hide as he followed her in.

Beth blushed when she noticed. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "Maybe this wasn't the brightest idea."

He shook his head, grinning a little sheepishly. "I'll be all right." Just to be with her was enough. _More than enough, apparently... Hush._

"Maybe," she started slowly, shyly, and blushed further. "Maybe I could help you with that..."

"Beth..." Holmes's eyes widened as he realised she was in earnest. "If... if you're certain, love... I didn't mean to..."

She tentatively touched his face. "Shhh… it's okay…" She let her other hand drift lightly down along his hip. "I want to, sweetheart…" She had no problems with pleasuring her husband—it still awed her, watching him fall apart beneath her touch.

A moan escaped him as her fingers brushed his skin, hips pressing forward. "Oh, Beth..." Trembling, he reached out to her unthinkingly, then stopped, uncertain what to do with his hands. She'd only asked to touch him...

Smiling sadly, she took one hand and directed it to the bar running the length of the shower. "You might need that…" He backed up against the bar hastily, grabbing it with both hands, and she reached down and brushed her fingers along his manhood.

His hips bucked as she touched him, crying out softly, head tipped back against the wall. _Oh God, so good, more..._

She bit her lip, skin flushing from more than the heat of the shower spray, and wrapped her hand around him, starting to stroke him. Oh zed, she _wanted_ him... She leaned forward and kissed his throat, her lips caressing his skin.

He shuddered, thrusting involuntarily into her hand, eyes closed in bliss, groaning her name.

She hummed against his skin, feeling heady at his reaction and aroused by it. She began to worship his throat in earnest, her hand following the pace of her lips. _I want him, I want him so much... But if you let yourself follow through, it could hurt much, much more than holding out would_...

A whimper escaped his throat, jaw clenched. Oh, how he wanted her, to touch her, make her cry his name as he made her forget everything but him, his mouth, his hands... oh God, her _hands_...

She shivered at his whimper, still in awe that she could _do_ this to him. "My beautiful Sherlock," she murmured against his skin.

"Beth...!" _So good, oh God, so_ _ **good**_ _, don't stop,_ _ **don't stop**_ _..._

She moaned against his throat. He was so close... "Yes, love, come for me!"

 _Ohhh, Elizabeth...!_ Holmes cried out wordlessly, neck and back arched as sweet fire surged through his body, knees suddenly buckling under him.

Raising one hand to help steady him, Beth groaned softly and a little bit despairingly, her own hips twitching with need. The sight of him coming, something she rarely saw while her head was _this_ clear and not swept up in her own euphoria, was maddeningly exquisite. Even so, she simply continued to lavish attention upon his throat and hold him until his hips slowed.

He trembled as his body gradually subsided, panting for breath, then opened his eyes, gazing at her dazedly. He seemed to be having trouble letting go... which was probably a good thing, because his legs were about to call it a night...

She gave him a flicker of a smile—golly, that dazed look was _doing things_ to her insides!—and put her arms around his waist. "It's okay, honey, I've got you. You can let go."

Breathing easier now, he managed to persuade his hands to open, wrapping his arms around her shoulders with a shaky smile. "Oh, Elizabeth..."

She managed a small smile in return and drew him slowly, carefully, down with her to the floor of the stall. "I take it that was good?"

Holmes rested his head against hers, breathing, "Mm, it was wonderful, _cherie_." He couldn't resist kissing her hair again, bejewelled with tiny droplets from the spray. "Thank you..."

Something in her finally broke then. She turned and buried her face in his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him again and sobbing softly.

Oh God, _why_ had he let her do this, he should have known... _Because she_ _ **asked**_ _you to, now_ _ **shut**_ _ **up**_ _._ He tightened his arms around his beloved as best he could, heart breaking at the sound of her sobs, letting his own tears silently gather and fall without hindrance.

She clung tightly to him as memories began to surface... _Moran's sadistic chuckle as his hands moved where they wanted, ignoring her pleas... the tendrils of ice plunging into her mind, so much pain that she thought her head would split open_... Everything hurt too much. If it weren't for Sherlock, she'd be very tempted just to have done with it all... _And you're still tempted, anyway_...

He started to rock her, murmuring, "It's all right, Beth... I have you... I'm right here..." _I'm never going to leave you again, not ever..._ "Just let go, sweetheart... let it go..."

"I c-caaaan'," she gasped between sobs, "Sherlock... I... oh, _God_..." Neither his hold nor his voice could possibly protect her from the demons in her head... _How can I ever even be_ _ **okay**_ _again? I couldn't even decide between my husband and my family in the first place because it would rip me apart_... And now she'd had both her mind and her body violated by the two people she hated most, and she had no defense against those memories, and... and... She gulped for breath as the tears continued, her head spinning, almost feeling as if she was about to pass out from the force of her crying.

Holmes lifted a hand and stroked her hair. "I've got you, love... just breathe... you're going to be all right..." She had to be... Remembering the train, he started to hum 'A La Claire Fontaine' again, still rocking her.

"No!" she burst out. The song Moriarty had used against her... and she knew it _had_ to have been him when she was trying to shut herself down. "I'm _not_... I'm not going to be all right! _How_... how can I _possibly_ **ever** be all right?!" Her voice rose sharply and sounded shrill in her own ears. " _Do you know what they_ _ **did**_ _to me?!_ "

A chill ran through him, he really _didn't_ want to know... _But it's not about you._ "What happened, dearest?" She was hurting _so much_ , just like him after Mycroft... "Talk to me, love," he whispered, " _please_..."

Her face twisted for a moment at the concern in his voice. _Oh, Sherlock_... "He entered my mind," she said softly, still between sobs. "Moriarty. He... he just... went through my memories... I don't even know how many... I didn't even know I had some of them... And... he..." Her breath hitched. "I'd imagined... a few times... what it would be like to... to have... children... _our_ children... and he _saw_ that... he saw our son... And he t-took... took those images..." She shuddered, remembering seeing the boy off at the train station—and suddenly her mind supplied her with a much more gruesome image that even Moriarty hadn't thought to give her... "He took those images... and... just... threw them... into everything I knew about World War One... everything _he_ knew... made me... made me experience that..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Until I was screaming at him to stop... and then giving in... giving him conditions that he couldn't even bother to keep..." She hung her head in shame. _You're an absolute idiot for ever thinking in the first place that that kind of decision or that kind of future could ever be okay_...

Holmes listened in mute horror, understanding deepening of what Moriarty had done to the poor Doctor, no wonder Nikola had chosen not to elaborate... "Oh, sweetheart." He held Beth tighter still, bracing himself, he knew there was more...

"And then he left… left me with Moran…" She shuddered and closed her eyes. "And… and Moran… just… _touched_ me… _everywhere_ …" She hiccuped a sob—by the time Moriarty had paged the Colonel, there was hardly a part of her body that he _hadn't_ touched. "He wouldn't stop... just like before... He knew… knew… how to… make me… _respond_ …" She hadn't thought it could be possible to be terrified and furious and desperate to get _out of a situation right bloody now_ and still... still have your body betray you. Hers had. "...said I must want it or I wouldn't be... be... acting like... like a..." She heard Moran's voice in her head, saying it over and over—she wouldn't make herself repeat it, she couldn't. She shook her head, trembling. She couldn't ever repeat the things he'd murmured in her ear while he played her body like an instrument.

"Beth..." Holmes's gentle tone belied the boiling rage that seared his insides, remaining outwardly calm through willpower alone. "You know I could never think that of you, don't you?"

"Yes," she said in a small voice. "But, Sherlock, I can't stop… feeling Moriarty in my head… or feeling Moran's hands… I can't… it won't stop…" Her voice broke. "It won't stop…!"

"Oh, Beth!" Holmes's own voice was suddenly hoarse, tears welling up. "I'm sorry, love..." The shame in his wife's face broke his heart, how _dared_ Moriarty let Moran use her like that! "I'm _so_ sorry!"

She shook her head, crying quietly. "Not... not your fault," she whispered. _...there's only one way to make the pain stop_... She calmed slightly, enough to speak more clearly. "Sherlock..." She wiped away her tears, heart beating rapidly. "What if… what if I wanted… wanted to die…" She couldn't help a pleading note entering her voice—she just wanted to not hurt anymore. She wanted just to not _live_ any longer; the future certainly held no brightness for her that she could see. "C-could you let… let me go?"

Holmes felt as if the floor had dropped out from under him. No... God, _no_ , she couldn't _,_ not _now_... but the anguish in Beth's eyes told him otherwise _._ She'd suffered so terribly... _Be honest,_ the voice in his head murmured sadly, _could_ _ **you**_ _have gone on if Beth hadn't given you a reason?_ "If... if that was your desire, _cherie_..." He took a deep breath, his own voice trembling. "Honestly, I... I don't think it would take me long to follow you..."

Her eyes widened—no, not him, too! "But you can't! You can't… you have to… stay…" He couldn't... couldn't be... _that_ attached to her, that he'd rather die if she did—that was horrible! She'd never meant to do that to him! She never thought she could! She shook her head, unable to articulate any of that.

"Beth, love..." He cupped her cheek, wiping her tears gently with his thumb. "You've saved my life more times than you know. Before you rescued me from Torchwood... I had been thinking for some time about how best to end my existence..." Such stagnation had never deserved to be called living. "If you hadn't come..."

She stared at him in horror. _No_ _ **wonder**_ _he was so shut-down..._ "Sherlock..."

"You gave me reasons to keep fighting, Beth, gave me hope... and even when you were dying... you made me promise to get home. I never would have made it without that."

She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the weight of the world once again settle on her own and not sure what to do with it. Was this what marriage was like, being strong for your spouse even when you felt as fragile as glass? "Sweetheart..."

He reddened as a sudden thought occurred: "You know, love, now I come to think of it... I don't think I ever thanked you, for coming back for me." _Or anything else, either._ How on earth she'd stood him all that time... His behaviour had been atrocious from the outset.

She managed a small, tired smile. "It's okay… you were miserable." Inadvertently setting him onto a second Hiatus... she hadn't been expecting gratitude.

He shook his head firmly. "Not half as much as I was at Torchwood. Beth, you were surprised, I know, at the luxury I was living in – but it was a gilded cage, at best. For the first few months, I could barely sleep..." His voice became a whisper. "Every time I closed my eyes... so many faces, staring at me..." All the people he'd failed...

She bit her lip and started to rub his back comfortingly—no wonder he'd wanted just to end it all... "Oh, honey..."

"At least on the TARDIS, after..." He cut himself off hastily. "Well, before getting stuck in 1969..." His blush deepened. "If music didn't work, I could ask her to play Watson snoring..." He hadn't realised how much he'd come to depend on that until he was living in a dump of a council flat with a Time Lord who never slept.

She frowned and tilted her head at his choice of words. " _Before_ getting stuck in 1969?"

 _Actually... don't you think this might be a good memory to share right now, after what she's been through?_ Holmes nodded, taking a deep breath. It hadn't been _all_ bad... Tarm, Dash, Frith adopting Noya, the two Doctors saving the day... "The Doctor took us to a space station in the 25th century..."

* * *

"...and when Moriarty entered my mind... I tried to use that memory to fight him. I'd been dreaming it for so long, I thought I could control it..."

Beth shuddered, unwillingly remembering Moriarty summoning the darkness to swallow her. "And you weren't able to," she whispered. The Professor's mental abilities were—had been—terrifyingly powerful.

Holmes shook his head, shivering at the memory of the ice-cold shadows wrapping around his mind. "Not without Watson and Nikola." So stupid of him, thinking that such evil would be daunted for a moment by its own kind. He smiled shakily as she began rubbing his back soothingly, grateful for the distraction. "And Watson chose far more wisely than I." _Is it just me, or does a so-called 'genius' seem to spend far too much time having his hide saved by other people?_

She smiled slightly back. "What did he choose, sweetheart?"

"A very special memory," he murmured tenderly, "one that we shared... of when we all came back together at Baker Street." _"...Beth...?" "I'm right here..." His beloved in his arms, her beautiful hair soft against his cheek..._

She blinked back sudden tears as she smiled more genuinely. "Oh, honey..." She kissed him softly.

Holmes took care to kiss her back just as softly, hoping fervently that it wasn't too soon for her. "And that is a memory, love, that I hope to dream of for the rest of my life."

Her smile faded—she knew from last time what memories awaited _her_ in her dreams... And the fact that she was now comparing her husband's every touch to Moran's was maddening. Not knowing what else to say or do just now, she settled for nuzzling him gently.

Pretending not to notice her expression, he nuzzled her back. "When I saw you in the doorway... for a moment, I thought the drug was making me see things!"

Her face twisted slightly. "I couldn't believe it when I... woke up... but then I realised: you and John must have made up..."

"I'm so sorry we scared you like that." Of all the sights for her and Sally to come back to, it just had to be both their husbands bleeding on the floor.

She laughed ruefully. "Well, you couldn't exactly help that, love."

"I know, but still..." He dared to lean in again carefully and kiss her cheek. "Thank heaven for Katherine."

She hummed and nodded, eyelids fluttering slightly at the kiss—it felt so light and soft and nice... "Those wounds looked… nasty. " Had Kathy not been able to heal them, her father might have had a much more disabled left shoulder... and Sherlock might have lost most of the use of his dominant hand. Almost certainly enough to keep him from ever playing the violin again...

Holmes nodded grimly – the sedative had done very little to dull the pain of being shot at point blank range. He looked down at Beth's arms, remembering that she still had visual reminders of her own trauma. "Beth, if you'd like the rest of these taken care of..." It surely couldn't be that difficult to work the instrument Watson had used; he doubted very much that she'd be comfortable with anyone else seeing her in a state of undress.

She bit her lip and tilted her head. _Doesn't matter to me so much—at least I'm used to being bruised._ She'd been bruised enough times in her school days that she thought she could handle seeing the new marks. _But..._ _ **he**_ _has to see them, too..._ She nodded.

He kissed her forehead. "Well, shall we finish washing first?" Not that they'd actually started at all.

Beth hummed her agreement, feeling… calmer… Not _better_ , but… okay. Sherlock got up slowly, using the bar for support, his knees obviously still a bit weak. She helped him steady himself, then rested her head lightly against his shoulder. "I want to…" Her murmur trailed off into a soft groan of frustration. As much intimacy as they'd already experienced, one would think she'd have been able to articulate her thoughts better when it came to sex. She nuzzled his shoulder and tried again. "I want..." Not knowing how to finish, she sighed.

He put his arms around her gently, smoothing her damp hair back from her face. "What is it, dearest?"

Her face still set against his shoulder, she murmured, "I want to not be afraid to make love with you, Sherlock." Because now that they were standing again and she was feeling ever so slightly better, her unfulfilled arousal had returned, and being so close to what she wanted and yet so far was maddening.

Holmes nodded in sympathy, hearing clearly all that she wasn't saying. "I want that for you, too, _cherie_. Whatever you need..."

She opened her mouth, then stopped, eyebrows knitting together. "I'm not sure... " Not sure how to explain the idea forming in her head—not even sure whether or not she really wanted it.

He gave her a quizzical smile, it was obvious she had something in mind.

She blushed, looking down. "I... had a vague idea... I don't know..." If she guided his hands to touch her everywhere Moran had, would that make things better or worse?

"It's all right, _cherie_." _Weeell... you_ _ **could**_ _always try... Oh no, not that... And why not? I... I don't know! I just... I never even got the chance to ask her... Well, what better time than right now, then? If it puts her in control..._ "Beth... if it would help... I don't mind if you restrain me."

She looked up, eyes wide in complete surprise.

"I must confess..." Were his cheeks as red as they felt? "I have thought about us doing that before now..."

She raised an eyebrow then, eyes still wide and a smile creeping into her tone. "Sherlock Holmes…" Because, come to think of it, it was actually kind of funny.

He shrugged lightly, still looking sheepish. "It just... never seemed to be the right moment." _Note that she still hasn't said it's a horrible idea._

She tried to chew down a grin, but it didn't quite work. "Actually…" She giggled slightly, blushing again. "That... sounds very hot..." Oy, the things they did to each other...

He smiled warmly, deeply relieved at the sound of her laughing, something he'd feared she might never do again. "Then perhaps we should finish showering."

She smiled back and reached for the soap. "Yeah, maybe."

* * *

 **Ria:** *hugs the Holmeses* Next update: Chapter 2, along with Chapter 12 of 'Together'. Will Beth be allowed to stay with Sherlock? Stay tuned!


	2. Stay With Me

**==Chapter 2==**

 **Stay With Me**

 _I want to be with you,  
it is as simple,  
and as complicated as that._

– Charles Bukowski

 _(Scene rating: S)_

The shower did not continue entirely without incident. At one point, Beth felt as though her skin was crawling; no matter how hard she scrubbed, the sensation wouldn't go away, and she nearly worked herself up into a panic attack. "He won't come off, he won't come off!" But at length, they were both clean and dry and dressed in bathrobes, and Beth led Sherlock to her room.

Or rather, Sherlock led Beth to the corridor of bedrooms, and Beth took over from there, her pulse quickened, anxious and hopeful all at once. She opened her door and exhaled slowly: she hadn't been inside the room in almost a year and she'd used it only... _Did I really only spend one night in it? Feels like_ _ **forever**_ _ago_. She certainly would never have dared, at the time, to dream that she'd ever bring Sherlock into it, not like this... She squeezed his hand and stepped inside.

Holmes squeezed back, smiling appreciatively as he followed her in. Beth's room looked the same as when he'd last seen it: a mixture of 21st and 19th centuries, including a four-poster bed with an elegantly carved headboard. It was a good thing she hadn't suggested using his room, he couldn't remember doing any tidying up before leaving the TARDIS for what he'd thought was the last time.

Beth smiled a bit sheepishly in return, in light of the question she was about to ask. "So… mind if I ask _why_ , exactly?" People didn't just have... kinks like that... oh zed, it was weird to think of _Sherlock Holmes_ having a _kink_ , never mind what fanfic authors thrived on!

Oh God, how to explain... _That ever since she first pinned you by the wrists you've been aching to explore that further? That even after being a prisoner all those months, you still want to know what it's like to put yourself under someone else's control willingly?_ "I, er... don't know, really..."

Beth was positive her cheeks were redder than her husband's —Sherlock wasn't strictly telling the truth, but he was embarrassed and she'd put him on the spot. "Sorry… um…" She moved over to the dresser. "I'm not sure that I have anything in here…" She didn't think she'd ever put any clothes in it, and she couldn't remember whether it had clothes in it or not. But when she opened the top drawer, she found scarves that she knew she'd never seen before in her life. She looked up at the ceiling and said, "Really?"

The TARDIS twittered cheerily back.

Good grief, a sentient ship who _shipped_. Beth giggled and turned back to her husband, holding up the scarves.

 _Wonderful, now you have to try to forget you have an audience!_ Still, Holmes couldn't help laughing, too, the tension suddenly draining out of him. Unless Beth changed her mind, he'd be damned if he was going to wait until they got back to Baker Street.

She climbed onto the bed, and he followed, moving to the middle. "So, um…" She tilted her head, trying not to blush again. "Mm... how exactly do you want to do this?" At least she'd known a little bit about sex before their first time, but this... she had no idea!

He took her hand with a reassuring smile and kissed it. "However you wish, my lady," he murmured, heart beating faster still at the thought of her binding him, soft silk holding him at the mercy of her every touch... "Command me..."

She shivered, flushing with pure _want_. Sherlock's eyes were turning dark and his voice was deep, and both were doing things to her insides. She opened her mouth, then closed it, reaching for his robe instead, undoing the sash and tugging it off. "Lie down, sweetheart," she murmured.

Thrilling at the desire in her voice, he obeyed, stretching himself out on the mattress, arms above his head. He suddenly found himself thinking of their first kiss on the lake shore, he had felt just like this then, heart almost pounding out of his chest in combined nervousness and arousal, her lips rendering him completely defenceless, the strangest yet headiest thing he'd ever known...

She took a shaky breath—the sight of her husband naked and stretched out atop a bed was incredibly arousing. She crawled forward and tied his hands loosely together, then tied the other end of the scarf to the headboard. Her voice, husky now, cracked when she spoke. "Is that all right?"

He'd watched her raptly as she bound him, smile widening at the hitch in her voice. "Yes, my love." He probably could free himself if necessary, but right now that was the very last thing he wanted to do.

That look in his eyes—burning desire coupled with the sense that she was the most important thing in the world to him—would never fail to take her breath away. "Do… um… Is that enough, or do you… ah… want to…" She blushed again.

Oh, how he loved being able to do that to her. "By all means, _cherie_ , continue."

Still blushing, she nodded and moved down to his feet, gently tying them to separate bedposts. On an impulse, she gave the second foot a quick kiss before turning back to face him.

His toes curled at her kiss, humming in pleasure, she'd never kissed him there before. He gazed at her in adoration as she crawled back up towards him, her cheeks flushed, eyes aglow with passion.

Ohhh... he took her breath away, naked and stretched out and willingly bound and obviously aroused. She shifted on the mattress—her body had been teased viciously and then willingly aroused later and now it was tired of waiting. "You look..." She decided to never mind what she was thinking and kissed him hungrily, twining her fingers through his hair.

Scalp tingling, Holmes kissed her back with equal hunger, unthinkingly trying to reach for her; thwarted by his bound wrists, he moaned softly into her mouth in yearning and frustration.

She pulled up just enough to murmur, "Kitty, you _did_ literally ask for this..." She stroked his cheek, and he leaned into her touch, eyes half closing. _Zed, I can't believe I can do this to him_... "And you do look kind of amazing..."

"Oh, Elizabeth..." he whispered shakily. Her warmth, her scent, her very _nearness_ was maddening... " _Ma chère femme_... have your way with me!"

She moaned, her blood turning to fire, and sat up to discard her own robe. As she did, she was exquisitely aware of her husband's gaze, devouring her. She leaned down again and trailed her lips over his jawline, and his head tipped back, allowing her better access to his throat. _I'm not even sure what to do—it's_ _ **always**_ _been give-and-take before_. Even when he had her tossing madly at his mercy...

She pressed her body against his as her lips moved down to his throat, kissing and sucking, and he moaned softly, trembling. Heart pounding rapidly, she began to rub herself against him and moaned loudly against his skin, pleasure jolting through her.

"Beth...!" He writhed beneath her, lost to everything but the sensation of her body melded to his, the aching _need_ in his loins stronger with every moment.

She shivered at the sound of his voice—she could never get enough of hearing him when they were making love... Oh, zed, the feeling of him writhing beneath her was _incredible_... She reached his pulse point and fastened her mouth to it, sucking. Her hands moved underneath her, feeling across his chest and reaching his nipples, and she began to play with them gently, curious to see how it would affect him.

Holmes strained against his bonds, whimpering. Her soft, merciless touch on his helpless form was setting his skin on fire, he couldn't bear it, oh _God_ , _don't stop..._

His whimpers tipped her over the edge: she needed him inside her right there and then. She shifted to straddle him properly, gently positioned his manhood—all the while encouraged by his moans and his hips lifting—and eagerly sank down onto it, arching as she did. He felt _perfect_...

 _Ohhh..._ He cried out as she took him, barely managing to hold himself still – the pace was Beth's to set, he'd never forgive himself if he hurt her.

Beth rocked forward gently, moaning in ecstasy. She set a slow rhythm to start, moving so that every time she pressed forward, he slid deeply inside her. He followed her lead, rolling his hips in time with hers, groaning her name. Stroking his cheek, she murmured, "I love you," and kissed him.

"I love _you_ ," he murmured breathlessly against her lips, kissing her back hungrily. He was quickly discovering that this position was more tiring than he'd imagined, not having his arms for leverage, but he would rather pass out from exhaustion than stop before his beloved was satisfied...

* * *

As long as her body had been aroused and denied, it didn't take Beth long to climax, and Sherlock swiftly followed. Once her hips finally stopped moving, she all but melted onto him, her body blissfully warm and heavy. She took a few moments to lie like that, recovering and stroking Sherlock's face with both hands. _I_ _ **adore**_ _him, so much_... She leaned up to kiss his forehead and slowly, reluctantly lifted off of him—she would have preferred to stay where she was, but he needed to be freed. She moved down to untie his feet, then came back to lie beside him, untying his hands. Smiling, she wound her arms around him and whispered, "Thank you."

Holmes kissed her hair, delighting in being able to hold her again, the only ache that he couldn't satisfy at the time. "I gather you enjoyed yourself, dearest."

She hummed a yes and nuzzled him, feeling safe and sated and warm and loved.

He nuzzled back, grinning tenderly. "And for the record, my darling, if you ever desire to do that to me again, say the word. It was..." His weary mind searched for an adequate word to describe just _what_ she'd done to him; "incredible."

She giggled softly. "I think I can... safely guarantee that we will. Because _you_ were incredible, sweetheart... not just... while we were doing that, but..." She reached up to stroke his hair. "For giving me a way to feel safe..." She couldn't begin to describe just how _relieved_ she felt—her need was satisfied, without ever once triggering her...

Blushing, he moved his head under her hand like a cat, humming in pleasure, which suddenly turned into a yawn. She grinned at his feline behaviour, and then yawned, too, suddenly feeling unbelievably tired. _How long have I even been awake?_ "Zed," she groaned, "it must be _so_ late..." It was probably already the wee hours of the morning by the time they'd left Torchwood.

"Mm..." Holmes didn't even want to know what time it was, much less when they had to get up; like Watson, he felt as if he could sleep for a week. He sat up for a moment and pulled the blankets over them both, kissed her cheek as he snuggled back down beside her, murmuring drowsily, "I love you, Beth."

She smiled at the kiss. _Yes, things are all right right now, but you still might not be able to live the rest of your life with him. ...geez, shut up. Just let me have this moment._ "I love you, too..."

 _Er, you do realise you're about to fall asleep... Mmph, yes, I_ _ **was**_ _, what about it? How certain are you that if you take your eyes off Beth, she won't do something... foolish? ...Good point._ "Beth... can we talk? I'm sorry, I know you must be exhausted..."

She stiffened but nodded. "It's okay... I, um... what is it?"

"Something that actually occurred to me while we were outside Goldini's..." He stroked her cheek in silent apology. "You've sacrificed so much for the two of us, dearest – for all of us, really... and it's not fair to ask you to give up anything else... or any _one_ else."

She leaned into his touch, blushing deeply, then bit her lip and looked down. "But that's just _life_ , isn't it?" she said wearily. Life was crappy; that was just how it worked.

Holmes lifted her chin, shaking his head, and answered gently but firmly, "Not this time, Beth. Because choosing between me or your family... either way, the choice would break your heart... and that won't do."

She gave a small, despairing laugh and shook her head. "Well, it's going to have to." She couldn't for the life of her understand why he was talking like this when he should know better—there wasn't anything they could do about her situation.

Holmes took a deep breath. "Beth, you told me once that you couldn't leave me – and the reverse is also true." His hand trembled on her cheek, but his voice was steady as he continued, "I can't leave _you_ , my love... and I won't. Wherever you go, I go, too."

Her eyes widened. "Sherlock..." For one wild moment, she dared to dream that she could have a future with her husband _and_ her family in her own time. Then she shook her head; that just couldn't be possible. "...what about John?" She blinked in surprise at herself— _where did that come from? I meant to say that he couldn't leave his own time because he's still needed; all those cases_...

"I know, I'll be talking with him as well. He has his own family to think about, after all. But we'll still need to consult the Doctor first..." His lips twitched; "see what can be done without destroying the fabric of Reality." He gave her as reassuring a smile as he could muster. "We'll work something out, sweetheart, I promise."

She wanted to believe him, wanted to let herself hope, but she was terrified to.

"You're stuck with me, love, remember?" He kissed her softly, smile turning mischievous. "I'm not letting you off just because Time's been unfrozen."

She couldn't help smiling faintly at that—he was so sweet... "I don't want you to let me off..."

He arched an eyebrow in mock severity. "Glad to hear it. But first, my darling..." nuzzling her, "we're both rather desperately in need of sleep."

At the mention of sleep, her eyelids felt ready to collapse. "Mm... mm-hmm..."

Dear heaven, she was beautiful... He kissed the tip of her nose, murmuring, "Goodnight, love."

She smiled sleepily—she loved him so much... "Goodnight, sweetheart..."

* * *

Holmes woke slowly, feeling warmer and more comfortable in doing so than he had in months. The sight of his wife beside him, still deep in blessedly peaceful slumber, made him smile, then sigh – he'd like nothing more than to stay, just holding her and watching her sleep. He kissed her cheek, then carefully, reluctantly slid from her hold and out of bed. On a hunch, he checked the wardrobe, and was amused to find that the TARDIS had moved all of his clothes into this room. He smiled in thanks at the ceiling, quietly dressed and slipped out, making his way to the control room.

The Doctor was beneath the floor by the control console, giving the TARDIS some badly needed maintenance. The poor thing'd had a rough past few months... When he heard footsteps enter the room, he called out, "Morning!"—grateful for the arrival of company.

"Good morning, Doctor." Holmes squatted at the edge of the hatch, noting with some concern the Time Lord's disheveled appearance. "Please tell me you haven't been up all this time working."

The Time Lord smiled sheepishly. "Not exactly." He knew, of course, that Holmes was really asking if he'd _slept_ at all—which, of course, he hadn't. "Did you two sleep well?"

Holmes nodded. "I gather we're still in the Vortex." No sign of Watson and Nikola, they must still be abed.

The Doctor nodded back, then returned his attention to the power coupling he was working with. "Few enough hours until dawn from when we left Torchwood—you lot had to get a decently long sleep."

"Thank you, yes." That solid, undisturbed rest had Holmes feeling like a new man. _Speaking of which..._ The detective opened his mouth, then closed it again. He couldn't think how to even begin, he and the Doctor had _so much_ to talk about...

The Doctor's smile faded to solemnity—if they had to have _talks_ now, there was one thing he had to get out of the way right away. "Sherlock…" He hesitated, then sighed. "You know how Nikola and I brought Moriarty's body aboard? I'm not sure when or where just yet, but I need to burn it. It's a Time Lord thing—Time Lord bodies are cremated, and with good reason, too. I'm not saying that you have to come with me when I do it, but I thought you should know."

Holmes stared at the floor as he listened, brow furrowed. He didn't _want_ to attend, it wasn't as if he owed Moriarty anything now, if he ever had... but somehow... he still couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he _ought_ to. He looked up at the Doctor and nodded mutely, before he could change his mind.

The Doctor grimaced—poor Sherlock, he did understand... "Sherlock, you don't have to."

"I know..." _But if you don't..._ As much as he hated the idea, the thought of no one but the Doctor being at Moriarty's... funeral (what other word was there?) seemed even more... wrong... "If I may make a suggestion?" When the Doctor raised his eyebrows invitingly, he went on, "Rannoch Moor, the Torchwood estate."

The Doctor nodded slowly, considering. "It'd have to be a bit of a ways away from the house—" which, he understood, was still a base of operations for the Institute—"but, yes, I think that'd do."

"As to when... well, the others all seem to still be asleep at the moment." Holmes couldn't imagine that any of them would be eager to attend.

The Doctor looked at him in surprise—he hadn't thought the detective would be up for that. "Right now? Blimey…" He sighed again. "Still, s'ppose you're right, though." He climbed back up out of the ship's bowels and stroked the console affectionately. "Sure about this?"

The detective's lips twitched. "Not really." He wasn't about to back out now, though. Besides, it was clear that the Doctor could use the company.

The Doctor flashed him a small, fond smile—he had really missed Sherlock Holmes. "All right, then." He threw down the lever. " _Allons-y_."

* * *

They stopped first at a sawmill to pick up enough wood to build the pyre—it would have been all but impossible to gather wood on a moor. A mere few seconds, then, after Moriarty had died in London, the TARDIS shuddered into Scotland, and the Doctor straightened from the console. "Okay... I'm just going to get the stasis capsule. Be right back."

Holmes headed down the ramp and opened the door. After months of fog and muted sunlight, it was something of a shock to discover a clear night sky above the moor, ablaze with stars. He felt his eyes growing suddenly moist... It had been so long...

The Doctor came up behind him, pushing the capsule, but stopped and moved up to stand beside the detective in the doorway. He took a shaky breath—he hadn't realised how much he'd missed the stars until he saw them. "Oh," he breathed, "that's lovely..."

Was this the only view he and Beth would ever have of the universe from now on...? Holmes shook his head, returning to reality, waiting a few more moments before clearing his throat respectfully. "I hate to interrupt, Doctor, but we do have things to do." The funeral pyre wouldn't build itself…

"Right, sorry." Jolted from his own reverie, the Doctor went back to work.

* * *

After a good solid hour of labour, the pyre was ready, and the Doctor and Holmes set the Professor's body on top of it. The Doctor made a torch, lit it, and set fire to the pyre. He felt as though he _should_ be saying something right now, but a Gallifreyan eulogy hardly seemed appropriate, so he simply stepped back and watched the flames.

Holmes stood by the TARDIS, leaning back against her – her solidness at his back was a welcome thing just now. Despite his recent exertion and the heat of the rising flames, he felt strangely cold, a hollow ache in his chest as he watched the fire engulf Moriarty's corpse.

The Doctor moved back to stand beside Holmes, looked at him, and decided to say something. "I've done some searching," he murmured, "some Time Lord-type searching, tonight. Through timelines. Yours, Beth's... his." He nodded at the pyre. "How much do you know about his past?" Because what the Doctor had discovered had broken his heart...

Holmes's lips twitched. Which one? "Before which date?" Shrugging wearily, "Little more than I told Watson, back in '91. After that..." He fell silent, gazing solemnly at Moriarty's silhouette for a long moment. "He told me... told me he often wished he had died then, that day at Reichenbach..." It should have ended there... it should have... _But the new Moriarty was already a part of your past, though neither of you knew it..._ And even though the identity was a lie... the kindness had not been, not then. " _My boy..."_

"I'm sure he did. Every time he rose high, he eventually fell even further. He could have been..." _He could have been an incredible force for good; you saw more than one reality in which he was._ He wasn't sure, though, that Holmes really wanted to hear that right now, or hear what the Doctor really wanted to tell him. People were complicated, and Moriarty as much as anyone else. And the tragedy of it was that the Napoleon of Crime had tried one last time for a real, loving relationship... and failed spectacularly. _No, Sherlock probably doesn't want to hear it right now; not after what Moriarty did to Beth._ So the Time Lord simply shook his head and said, "Such a waste..."

Holmes reddened, staring down at the ground as yet more regrets resurfaced. " _What has he_ _done_ _to you?"_ _"Nothing I have not allowed him to, Miss Lestrade..."_

The Doctor frowned at his companion's reaction. "What is it?"

Holmes bit his lip, blush deepening. "Doctor, I..." _Don't be a coward, you've put this off long enough._ "I assume the others have informed you... of what my part was in this whole affair..."

 _Oh_. The Doctor had wondered when that was going to come up. He turned fully to the detective and said gently, "I do know, Sherlock, yes." Aside from Nikola's updates, Beth had pulled the Doctor aside and quickly given him a run-down, quietly but fiercely insisting that her husband felt his guilt very keenly. Poor Sherlock. He knew only too well what his friend was going through right now.

The detective could barely meet the Doctor's eyes, so full of love and compassion, before he had to look away again, gaze drawn back to the pyre in spite of himself, his own eyes glistening. "If it hadn't been for Beth..." he managed hoarsely. "Even when she thought I didn't care... however deeply I wounded her..." His voice was now a whisper; "she never stopped trying to reach me... to remind me of who I was..."

The Doctor slowly wrapped both arms around him, drawing him into a hug, who returned it gratefully, blinking hard. "Oh, Sherlock," he murmured, "I know. More than you know, I know..." He pulled back to look Holmes in the eye. "There's more than one reason why I take Companions with me." His tone softened further. "You lot remind me every day of who I need to be."

Holmes nodded slowly, all at once reminded of what Moriarty had told him at the very beginning: _"_ _He has paid a heavy price for the path he chose – perhaps not heavy enough..."_ "Doctor..." He sighed. "Forgive me, I don't wish to distress you... but there is something you ought to know... Moriarty... he searched through _your_ timeline, as well..."

The Doctor smiled grimly. "Yeah, I kinda figured that." _Farewell, Valeyard. Think on your sins._ Moriarty had definitely done his research.

"He wouldn't tell me everything, but... Doctor, he did tell me about the Valeyard." _The darkest aspects of the Doctor, given flesh and form..._ "I'm... so sorry..."

The Doctor took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Can't..." His voice was too hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Can't say I'm really surprised." Not after the way Moriarty had _gleefully_ hurled the title at him again and again. "I'm sorry you had to hear about that, from him…"

"If it helps at all, Doctor... I now know something of what it is like to come face to face with one's darker self."

The Doctor swallowed thickly. "Something of it, yeah… and you should never have had to…" _But only_ _ **something**_ _, thank goodness_ —he doubted Holmes would ever have done some of the things the Doctor had already done. He opened his eyes. "Sherlock, I shouldn't have booted you off the TARDIS, and more than that, I shouldn't have just… _left you alone_ … while you were trying to recover from out-of-body trauma, no less! I am so, _so_ sorry…! " If he'd just taken on a modicum of personal responsibility for his own Companions, they might have avoided a lot of heartbreak. Holmes and Watson might not have split, they might not have been captured, Sally might not have had to go through her first pregnancy without her husband, Beth wouldn't have been murdered...

"Doctor..." Holmes shook his head, smiling sadly. "If I recall correctly, Watson's was the deciding vote to return home – and he was right." They'd both been off the slow path for far too long.

The Doctor shook his head, too. "I didn't go about it nearly the right way."

Holmes's smile became rueful. "Well, my conduct at the time couldn't have helped. How any of you were able to put up with me, I will never know." Even Beth... _And speaking of your wife, don't you have something to ask?_

The Doctor pulled himself back together at the shift in Holmes's demeanor—the detective actually looked _nervous_. "…Sherlock?"

Holmes drew a deep breath, then said simply, quietly, "Beth."

The Doctor exhaled shakily, forcing himself to keep eye-contact with Holmes—the look in those grey eyes was breaking his heart. _"How long are you going to stay with me?" "Forever."_ "Sherlock… I'm… working on that…" He grimaced; he didn't want to give false hope! "And I wasn't going to say _that_ much yet..."

Holmes's heart missed a beat. "Doctor, _please_. Any hope you can give us at this point, especially Beth... " She had so little to hold to as it was.

"Sherlock, you have to understand that I'm playing a very dangerous and very delicate game with Reality. I think I'm right, but if I'm wrong… more than just your world could pay the price." One couldn't just blithely go mucking about with Fixed Points or the people who were part of them—they'd already seen exactly what happened if you tripped and fell.

The detective nodded gravely. "I understand. " But even a slim hope was better than none at all. "Thank you."

The Doctor nodded slowly in return. "It's not just you that owes Beth something, Sherlock." The Time Lord was only too aware of the debt they _all_ owed her.

"Lestrade has a descendant to be proud of," Holmes smiled in agreement. "And I greatly wish I could tell him so."

"Mm, maybe you can someday," the Doctor smiled in return.

Holmes gave a huff of laughter. "Yes, and promptly be thrown in a holding cell to sober up! Oh, which reminds me: we do have to get back to Baker Street sometime this morning – Lestrade and Mycroft will be needing an update on the case." Though he might just neglect to mention any other recent developments.

"Don't worry, I'll get you there bright and early." Of course, "bright and early" would be a while yet—humanoid bodies took hours to burn down on a pyre, and Time Lord bodies were no exception.

Holmes followed the Doctor's gaze, sighing – this being a solemn occasion didn't make it any less dull, he'd been on more exciting stakeouts... "I don't suppose..." He shook his head, half ashamed of himself, but unable to dislodge the irreverent thought.

The Doctor's lips twitched—he knew that look and he'd missed it. "Yeees?"

"Well, it has been a while since either of us has eaten, I imagine..." And this was probably Holmes's last chance to deviate from Watson's diet plan. "Do you want some popcorn?"

Eyes wide, the Doctor covered his mouth, but couldn't help laughing. _Now there's the Sherlock Holmes I know and love_. "Oh, what am I going to do with you?"

Holmes chuckled, heading back inside. "I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

 **Ria:** Good grief, how long has it been since that first stakeout in Tibet: four years? Y'all seem to have been enjoying the adventure, though, we can't believe how patient some of you have been! Next update, chapter 3 of 'Study'.


	3. A New Hope

**==Chapter 3==**

 **A New Hope**

 _But things work out, you know? Even if it doesn't feel okay for a long time, or even if it feels like things will never be okay again, everything works out in the end._

– Lauren Morrill, Meant to Be

Beth was beginning to stir as Holmes re-entered the bedroom; he quickly disrobed and climbed back into bed, suddenly needing very badly to have her in his arms again. The temptation to take a detour on his way to the kitchen had been awful...

Beth rose slowly, lazily, to wakefulness, feeling warmer and better-rested than she had in a very long time. It was a movement, a shifting, that brought her to full consciousness, and she opened her eyes. "Sherlock...?"

He snuggled closer, embracing her gratefully. "Good morning."

"Morning…" She reached up to touch his hair and frowned at what she felt. "'S damp."

Holmes nodded, biting his lip. "I just had another shower. I... didn't think you'd want me coming back to bed smelling of smoke." And despite remaining upwind of the fire, he hated to think what _else_ he must have been smelling of by the time the Doctor had deemed it safe to leave the remains of the pyre unguarded.

Her frowned deepened. "Smoke?" Why... smoke... surely he wasn't smoking again—she didn't think he'd had the chance to do it for a long time now.

"Yes..." He prayed she'd be all right hearing this. "Sweetheart, Time Lords are cremated when they die... and since Moriarty essentially was one when you shot him..."

She blinked, more awake at the Professor's name. "Oh."

He gently stroked her cheek, expression apologetic. "I had the feeling you'd prefer to sleep."

She leaned into his touch, eyes closing, savouring it. His touch was incredibly sweet and tender. "Mm-hmm..."

Should he tell her...? _Well, her hopes can't sink much lower, you idiot, it could hardly hurt to raise them!_ "I talked with the Doctor, _cherie_... about us."

Her eyes opened wide then _._ "Yes?"

"He didn't say anything specific," Holmes hastened to add, "just that he's working on it – and he'd rather we didn't get our hopes up too high as yet..." He allowed himself a faint smile. "But the mere fact that he hasn't said 'no' outright makes me think that he can see a way forward."

She covered her mouth, tears springing to her eyes. _It's too much to hope for, you can't possibly let yourself hope, it's too much_... _But I need to_... She hugged him suddenly and tightly, her heart too full of hope and terror to speak.

He hugged her back, kissing her cheek, relieved beyond words to see a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes. Please, God, let that light never go out again...

She pulled back slightly, enough to look him in the eye again. "Sherlock," she breathed, "do you really think the Doctor can do something about… _for_ … us?"

Holmes nodded, smile widening. "Well, we _are_ talking about the master of the last-minute miracle here. But whatever happens..."

She chewed back her lips as his tone sobered, raised her eyebrows questioningly.

He nuzzled her. "Beth, I've been such a fool. No matter what happens to us, dearest, wherever we go from here... I do still want us to be officially wed." To stand before family and friends, vowing to be hers for as long as he lived... Suddenly those old and sentimental traditions no longer seemed quite so redundant.

She smiled, heart leaping, eyes shining. But she couldn't resist murmuring, "Do you honestly think I would have let you get away with _not_ marrying me officially?" No chance of that, no matter what happened!

"No," he grinned – as if he didn't know full well that she desired it as much as he did. "Oh, speaking of which... I had a thought about who else to invite." She lifted a hand to his hair again and hummed encouragingly. "How would you feel about accompanying me to Scotland Yard this morning?"

She began to stroke his hair as he spoke. "I would love to." She tilted her head, having a feeling they were going to be delivering an invite as well as a report.

He hummed softly at her touch. "Even if we can't tell the Inspector who you really are, I thought you might like to have him attend the wedding, at least." And he, in turn, was going to immensely enjoy the look on Lestrade's face...

She smiled sadly and nodded—she _wanted_ to tell her own several-times-great grandfather _exactly_ who she was, and she wanted to get to know him better... "I would like that," she said softly.

"And you can meet your future brother-in-law –" He kissed her, grinning wryly; "again. Mycroft and Lestrade need to be updated on how the case is progressing."

She smiled more fully again. "I would really like tha… wait a minute. I get how Mycroft would be my future brother-in- _law_ , but we _are_ married right now, so what _would_ Mycroft be to me?"

Holmes blinked, then laughed. "I don't know! 'Brother-in-common-law' just doesn't sound right, does it?"

She giggled and shook her head. "No! I can't think of a single thing that does!"

His heart grew light as she laughed with him; after all of her tears, he thought it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. He kissed her again, just as another noise intruded: blast, his stomach clearly thought the popcorn hadn't been enough. "No one asked your opinion, sir," he told it sternly.

She giggled again and fluffed his hair. "D'aww. Sounds like somebody needs breakfast."

"Mm..." He _really_ didn't want to get up again so soon, but the TARDIS drew the line at serving breakfast in bed. "Care to join me?"

Smiling, she pushed herself up on one elbow. "Mm, in a minute…" She kissed him softly, caressingly. Just now, the world didn't look so bleak.

* * *

The breakfast table at 221B was the most laden it had ever been – it rather had to be, with half a dozen adults and one infant all crowded around it! Mrs. Hudson, of course, was in her element, piling people's plates high and tutting over how thin everyone still was, particularly Holmes and the Doctor. Holmes bore the fussing as best he could – it helped that he was actually able to do justice to his share of the food, for a change – and pointedly ignored Watson's smile of approval as his friend tucked into a large bowl of porridge with cream. The coffee pot sat well out of reach, Watson sternly informing the dismayed detective before breakfast that he couldn't have _any_ caffeine until he had regained some weight and was sleeping regularly again. Beth had nudged him in sympathy, then taken pity on him by requesting tea for herself as well.

George came in a minute later with another dish of bacon, having insisted on helping to cook the extra breakfast. He was relieved of his burden by Mrs. Hudson and told in no uncertain terms to sit down, meekly taking the window seat and balancing his plate on his knees.

As a new mother, Sally was certainly doing her breakfast justice—just the ability to eat as much as she wanted, fresh and hot and _delicious_ , and not needing to worry about anyone else not having enough seemed like a luxury! Even the Doctor was managing pretty well, helped along by the fact that Mrs. Hudson wouldn't quit _hovering_.

But despite her horribly empty stomach, Beth found that she could not eat very much—too tense, waiting for a chance to talk with the Doctor. He noticed her hesitance, and cast his mind about for a way to get that chance. He caught Sherlock's eye, then glanced first at Beth and then at Mrs. Hudson.

Before Holmes could open his mouth, however, Nikola intervened, trying something new: intruding a faint smell of burning on Mrs. Hudson's senses as he sniffed the air himself. "George, did you remember to take the frying pan off the range?"

George was sharp enough to look guiltily uncertain, starting to rise. Mrs. Hudson tsked, shook her head at him and hastened out of the room.

The Doctor grinned and nodded at Nikola—not bad at all. Then, sobering, he cleared his throat and turned to Beth. "So... Sherlock told you what I told him last night, right?"

Beth nodded, apprehension knotting her stomach. Across the table, Sally looked as anxious as she felt, and it made her feel ever so slightly better.

"Beth, relax, it's okay," the Doctor continued gently. "Look, there are some things about yourself and Sherlock and Moriarty that you guys should know."

Holmes pricked up his ears, laying down his fork to take Beth's hand in his, as much for his own moral support as for hers. The Doctor's reassurance didn't quite match his expression... and whatever solution the Time Lord had come up with, there would almost certainly be a catch.

"The TARDIS doesn't pick times and places at random," the Doctor went on, gesturing with his fork—"she always takes me where I need to be." He nodded to Sherlock. "Tibet 1893… New Earth, five billion years from now… Niagara Falls, last spring… Michigan, 2093. She has also, for a while now, been choosing Companions: she chose Sherlock and John when I needed them badly, and she also chose this scared but brilliant kid. She wouldn't have landed near an American high school, otherwise." It turned out that the TARDIS felt a kind of responsibility for timelines, herself—the Doctor had been having a long conversation with her the night before, as well.

Beth blushed and averted her gaze. _Brilliant_ , she most certainly did not deserve, except ironically...

Holmes squeezed her hand gently, noticing that Watson was wearing the same proud smile as he was; the doctor's gaze then shifted to Sally, his train of thought apparent.

"So now the thing is, you three—" the Doctor indicated Sherlock, Beth, and John—"are temporally significant. Sally, you are, too, but not for the same reasons—you have a lot more free will in the matter, and believe me, that's a blessing."

Sally nodded. She certainly did not mind not having to bear the weight of the world on her shoulders...

"And Beth… before, when we all… well, when you lot left the TARDIS, I knew that you _had_ to get back to your time. It could wait, but it had to happen, and it might as well be sooner rather than later." The Time Lord rolled his eyes. "So much for that." It had been unforgivably cruel, anyway: to give Beth a _taste_ of his lifestyle, just a taste, and then keep her from going any further. "And I could definitely sense a Fixed Point in your timeline. I wasn't sure what it was at that point, but now, when I _Look_ at you… it's already happened."

Beth's eyes widened beneath her frown, not understanding.

Holmes's brow furrowed. "You don't mean the case, Doctor, do you?" Since Time had been reset, the case still had yet to be resolved, technically.

The Doctor shook his head slowly and sighed. He didn't like that he had to tell them this; there was no way it was not going to hurt. "This probably won't be easy for you two to hear, but…"

Beth tensed automatically, setting down her teacup just in case.

"It was your death, sweetheart," he said gently—"or rather, your death and resurrection. That was always meant to happen, no matter what else did."

Beth stared at him, speechless. _What the actual zed...?_

Holmes was certain his face was as pale as Beth's, fingers tightening on hers. _Beth's empty eyes, her face as white as the snow beneath, rapidly staining crimson..._ Then he felt a gentle nudge in his mind: _Easy, Holmes, come back..._ Across the table, Nikola's eyes were a study in empathy. Holmes gave the telepath a small but heartfelt nod of thanks, relaxing his grip on Beth's hand again and refocusing on what the Doctor was saying.

"But, like I said, you were always meant to come back. And now you've fulfilled that Point, but—" the Doctor held up a finger—"that doesn't mean you're off the hook just yet. A lot of people that you would call 'historical figures' never have a Fixed Point in their lives and yet they are still born to influence Reality. The choices that they make decide how history will play out. Beth, you're both a person with a Fixed Point and a Reality-influencer. And someone else we know—knew—could influence Reality."

"Moriarty," Beth said quietly, head spinning.

The Doctor nodded. "Remember how I said that I knew that you had to go back to your own time, before Time broke down? Looking at you now… I don't see that anymore."

Beth paled further, breath catching.

"Looking at your timeline," the Doctor continued in a gentle tone, "at Sherlock's, at Moriarty's… they were all very tightly interwoven. Whatever one decided affected the other two tremendously. And I think that, at some point between Time breaking down and this morning… Moriarty made a decision that made it… no longer _necessary_ for you to go back."

Beth stared, heart pounding wildly. How... _how...?_

"Then..." an equally stunned Holmes said slowly, still uncertain of what the Time Lord was driving at; "where exactly does that leave us, Doctor?"

"Well, quite frankly, I'm pretty sure it leaves us at a place where what Beth does with her life is up to her."

Beth's face twisted, her pulse not slowing in the slightest. "But… Doctor… what if… what if I can't…"

Holmes put his arm around Beth, then remembered with a guilty pang that he _still_ hadn't gotten the chance to talk with Watson about what he'd been considering... but one look at his friend's face was enough to tell him that Watson had already had the same thought, smiling and nodding at Holmes encouragingly: _Go on, ask him._ "Actually, Doctor... Beth and I have been discussing that very question. Beth still has family in her own time... and since it's unfair to leave them behind entirely to come live with me..."

The Doctor's eyes widened, and he mentally kicked himself. "Oh. Oh… I should have thought you'd think of that. Um… setting aside the fact that it would be a shame for you to not wrap up the remaining published cases… what if I can do you one better? Because, really, at this point, I'm not sure that it's fair to either of you to be stuck in just one time."

Beth frowned, wishing he'd just come to whatever it was he had in mind. "Doctor… what are you saying?"

"Doctor," Holmes sighed, "you know we can't travel in the TARDIS indefinitely." _Especially since you two are most likely going to have children at some point – do you really want any of them to be quite so..._ _ **special**_ _as Kathy?_

"Well, you know, the TARDIS is _not_ the only way that you can travel through Time," the Doctor replied. "There are other ways… one in particular that I'm thinking of."

Beth's eyes widened further. Was he... was he offering her unlimited time travel?

"Now, it might be a little tricky to get my hands on it, but… you would have the ability to go whenever and wherever you wanted on your own terms." The Doctor turned towards her. "You could go back and forth between this time and your own."

 _He is_. Beth covered her mouth in shock, and saw Sally copying her across the table. She could... she could go through Time and Space on her own...? There _had_ to be a catch—that was too amazing to be true!

Watson's eyes almost bulged out of his head, Holmes appearing no less thunderstruck. The notion of _Sherlock Holmes_ , magnet of crime, with his own personal time machine...! Then the doctor heard a faint sigh on his right and glanced over – Nikola was looking decidedly wistful. Of course, both inventors' travels in the TARDIS had all been on Earth in and around 1895; Nikola would probably give a lot to see even a tiny bit more of the universe the way the rest of them had.

The Doctor met Beth's gaze squarely, stood, and moved to kneel beside her chair. "Because Sherlock's right, Beth," he said solemnly: "it's not fair for you to have to choose between families—" not in any version of events, and _especially_ not after everything she had done, and suffered—"and I'm going to do my best to make sure that you won't have to."

Beth was crying silently by the time he finished. She leaned down and hugged him tightly, awed and grateful beyond words.

The Time Lord returned her hug, rubbing her back slowly and murmuring soothingly, "My brave girl. My brave, beautiful girl..." _The Doctor_ was not a person, it was an ideal, an ideal he always aspired to be. And throughout this whole ordeal, _Beth_ had been the one to fulfill that ideal; she had been the Doctor in every way that mattered.

Sally pressed her lips tightly together to stop a sob of relief from escaping, eyes glistening; the thought that she _still_ might lose her best friend had terrified her, but saying so to Beth had seemed too cruel... and now... She looked up with a misty smile to see that both their husbands were wearing much the same expressions, Sherlock more than a little overwhelmed. _Thank you, Doctor... thank you so much..._

* * *

Holmes paused before Lestrade's office door, bracing himself before raising his hand to knock – even though he'd been looking forward to this moment all morning, he suddenly felt inexplicably anxious.

Beth took his hand and squeezed it, just as nervous as he was. She was about to properly meet her future brother-in-law and her own several-times-great grandfather—as properly as she _could_ , given the circumstances—and she was just about terrified.

 _No enemies here, remember? Just family..._ He squeezed back, doing his best to smile reassuringly, and knocked.

"Come in."

Entering, Holmes wasn't surprised to find his brother there already, eyebrows raised at the sight of Beth, but rising at once. Lestrade stood, too, nodding respectfully. "Good morning, miss."

"Good morning, Inspector," Beth said carefully, almost demurely. _How many times have you actually had to act this properly? Two? ...okay, now is really not the time._

"Good day, gentlemen." Holmes turned to Mycroft, smiling proudly. "Brother mine, I am certain you have already deduced this young lady's identity." His voice and expression softened as he drew Beth forward. "Nevertheless, allow me to present Miss Elizabeth Smith... my fiancée."

Lestrade's mouth fell open before he could stop it. _Fiancée?!_ Surely not, there had to be a catch! Sherlock Holmes was _not_ a marrying man; he'd made that frightfully clear in the past!

Beth blushed at her ancestor's reaction. She could guess pretty well what was running through his head right now...

Mycroft had indeed deduced who Miss Smith was, bestowing a genial smile upon her as he bowed over her hand – so _this_ was the young lady who had, against all odds, persuaded Sherlock to break his most vehement oath! Strange, though... Just for a moment, he could have _sworn_ they had met before... "I am delighted to meet you, Miss Smith. I hardly dare hope that my dear brother has spoken as highly of me as he has of you." He shot a stern but twinkling glance at Sherlock, who was poorly concealing a grin at the hapless Inspector's reaction – it was absolutely typical of his little brother to give him no warning of such an occasion.

Beth smiled warmly back—it was so good to see Mycroft again, alive and well. And looking at him now, she could see a definite resemblance to his little brother. "I think you would be surprised, Mr. Holmes. It's wonderful to meet you." She turned to face Geoffrey Lestrade, and it felt amazing to have the opportunity to look him in the eye. She hadn't before, when she'd been impersonating an Irregular on that disastrous trip with Sherlock when everything was first falling apart. "And you, Inspector."

"Delighted, Miss Smith." Lestrade was aware he stammered slightly, but, blast it, he couldn't be expected to take this kind of earth-shattering news with any sort of equilibrium! At least the young lady—whom he'd noticed was _quite_ young, and American, to boot—was not taking offence. If anything, she seemed genuinely pleased to meet him, and that in itself was odd.

"My dear Inspector, I fear you look a trifle pale. Are you feeling quite well?"

Lestrade shot the insufferable amateur a brief glare and lifted his chin. Damn the man, he was probably enjoying this immensely. "I'm very well, thank you. Miss Smith, do take a seat."

"Thank you." Beth shot Sherlock a brief look, wanting him to behave himself, and let him guide and seat her in a chair before the desk.

Lestrade waited for the brothers to sit, then seated himself. "Well, then, Mr. Holmes, what progress have you made?"

"Excellent progress, Lestrade. I have every expectation that the stolen plans may yet be recovered. We have managed to ascertain the involvement of one Hugo Oberstein, international agent –" Holmes nodded to Mycroft in acknowledgement of his assistance; "in both the theft of the plans and the death of Cadogan West. Whatever part the unfortunate young man had to play in this matter remains unclear." Miss Westbury's eyes still haunted Holmes, he prayed that he might yet prove her fiancé innocent. "It is certain, however, that his body was placed upon the roof of the train from Oberstein's back window, his residence at Caulfield Gardens abutting upon the open tracks of the Underground."

Beth had winced when Sherlock got back to Cadogan West. That poor man—and his poor fiancée. _I can't imagine what she must be going through_. She opened her mouth slightly, about to speak on impulse on West's behalf, but she stopped herself. She didn't have anything _certain_ to say, and what could she really have said that would be worth hearing? It was probably not time yet to let anyone outside of 221B know that she was already involved in Sherlock's casework.

Interesting... Miss Smith seemed to have more of a personal interest in the case than Mycroft would have expected. Had she known the deceased? Perhaps, but more likely that Sherlock had discussed the case with her – a remarkable testimony to his brother's confidence in his betrothed, if so. Where in the world could they have met?

Lestrade raised both eyebrows. "Good Lord. And what of this Mr. Oberstein? I assume, then, that he bought or stole the plans?"

"Indeed, and has since left the country. However, we may still lure him back before he has a chance to sell them. Watson and I were able to..." Holmes couldn't quite keep a sheepish note out of his voice; "gain access to Oberstein's residence last night, and an inspection of his correspondence revealed these." He drew an envelope out of his coat pocket, ruefully noting that Mycroft's lips were twitching at the confession, though he remained silent.

Lestrade sighed—he might have known—and extended his hand for the envelope. "May I?"

"By all means." Holmes handed over the envelope, which contained a number of newspaper cuttings, obtained from the cash-box in Oberstein's study. "Whoever his confederate might be, Oberstein has been corresponding with them through the Daily Telegraph agony column." Every newspaper in London had its own signature typeface and grade of paper; the detective could have written a monograph on the subject if he'd thought anyone would actually read it.

Lestrade opened the envelope and skimmed over the ads:

 _Hoped to hear sooner. Terms agreed to. Write fully to address given on card. Pierrot._

 _Too complex for description. Must have full report. Stuff awaits you when goods delivered. Pierrot._

 _Matter presses. Must withdraw offer unless contract completed. Make appointment by letter. Will confirm by advertisement. Pierrot._

 _Monday night after nine. Two taps. Only ourselves. Do not be so suspicious. Payment in hard cash when goods delivered. Pierrot._

"It does seem pretty damning, this collection." Shaking his head, the Inspector set the envelope down and resisted the urge to sigh again. "No wonder you get results beyond us…"

Holmes held up a hand in mild protest. "Time was of the essence, Lestrade. Rest assured I do not rank housebreaking among my usual methods. Well, Mycroft?"

"Excellent, Sherlock," Mycroft nodded, the gleam in his eye the only outward sign of his delight. "But what use will you make of this?"

Holmes picked up Lestrade's morning copy of the Daily Telegraph from the desk. "Have you seen Pierrot's advertisement today?"

Lestrade frowned. "What? Another one?"

"Yes, here it is." Holmes ought to recognise it, he'd written it. "'Tonight. Same hour. Same place. Two taps. Most vitally important. Your own safety at stake. Pierrot.'"

Lestrade couldn't help being impressed—a neater solution to catching the thief, he couldn't ask for. "By George, if he answers that, we've got him!"

Beth also smiled. She'd first fallen in love with Sherlock's intelligence, and it still felt like a real treat to get to see it in action.

 _Good Lord..._ Mycroft's eyes widened, gaze darting between the Inspector and Miss Smith. Those smiles had quite transformed both their faces, and in the light of the gaslamp... **  
**

"That was my idea when I put it in." Holmes glanced over at Mycroft, eyes narrowing slightly at his brother's preoccupied expression, and cleared his throat. "I think if you could both make it convenient to come with Watson and I to Caulfield Gardens at about eight o'clock, we might possibly get a little nearer to a solution."

Mycroft gave a resigned nod, answering dryly, "I should be delighted, brother mine." The sooner all this bother was concluded, the happier he'd be – although he suspected he would be wise to begin a few more discreet inquiries once he had returned to the office...

Lestrade sighed imperceptibly and nodded. It was more than a little maddening the way that Sherlock Holmes expected the official detectives to be at his beck and call, but this _was_ a Foreign Office case. And... the fiasco with the Greek brother and sister and Mr. Melas had taught them all to follow the amateur's lead much more quickly than Gregson had that ill-fated night. "Certainly."

Beth turned then to Sherlock, her expression expectant. If she wasn't mistaken, that concluded their official business...

"Oh, yes, one more thing... My dear Lestrade, Miss Smith and I have another invitation to extend to your good self."

Lestrade's eyes widened slightly, bracing himself. The young woman's smile was positively radiant, so he had a fair idea of what he was about to hear, given the circumstances. He cleared his throat. "Ah, yes?"

Holmes smiled tenderly at Beth, then looked back up at Lestrade. "Beth and I are shortly to be married – tomorrow afternoon, barring mishaps..." Given everything that had happened already, he wasn't about to rule out the possibility of some unforeseen hiccup. "And it would mean a great deal to both of us if you would also attend."

Lestrade stared at them both. He had been right, but still he stared. He and Mr. Holmes had certainly been on friendlier terms since the younger man's return to London, but even so...

Beth's smile turned sympathetic. _Poor Geoffrey. I can only imagine_... "Please," she said softly.

Lestrade recovered enough to stammer out, "Of course." Then he chided himself and straightened in his seat. "It would be my honour."

Beth's smile broadened again. "Thank you."

Mycroft shook his head, sighing. "First to know, indeed." He took a second envelope from his own coat pocket, remarking innocently, "I can't imagine why I thought to bring a certain document along with me..."

Eyes lighting up, Beth opened her mouth, then closed it again, uncertain of what to say and whether or not it would be proper… _And I'm already sick of not knowing how to hold proper conversations_. That disastrous meeting with Oberstein made her want to dig her own grave and bury herself in it every time she thought of it. _And it looks like your conversational skills haven't improved much since then_...

Holmes laughed, taking the promised marriage license and pocketing it carefully before wringing his brother's hand. "You never cease to amaze me, brother mine. Thank you."

"Nor you to deprive me of a peaceful existence," Mycroft countered dryly as he rose laboriously from his chair, then bowed to Beth with a smile. "Until tomorrow, my dear. Gentlemen, I shall meet you this evening at Gloucester Road Station."

Beth rose and nodded, smiling back. _I think it's safe to say I adore him already_. "Until tomorrow, Mr. Holmes." She nodded to Geoffrey, smiling maybe just a tad brighter—she was _so_ happy he was really going to come. It wouldn't be the same as having her immediate family there, but it would still be immeasurably special. "Inspector."

Standing, Lestrade nodded back. "Good day, Miss Smith. A pleasure."

Holmes squeezed Beth's hand as he took it; he was more relieved than he cared to admit that this first meeting was concluded, despite its going so smoothly. "Gentlemen."

Once they were safely out in the hall, Beth released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. "Okay, um… that went well, right?" she whispered.

"Indeed, my love," Holmes murmured, smiling as his own tension drained away. He raised her hand and kissed it, starting back with her towards the front entrance. "I should think it safe to say that we have the whole-hearted blessing of the heads of both our families."

She laughed softly. "I guess so." And thank goodness...

Emerging back onto the street, it dawned on Holmes that he and Beth still had several hours to fill before tonight's stakeout – and come to think of it, this would be their last chance until after the wedding to spend any time alone together. "Well, _cherie_ , we seem to have the rest of the day to ourselves. Is there anything you would like to do before returning home?" _Home..._ The detective's smile grew awed as the realisation hit him: Baker Street truly _was_ Beth's home now.

Beth frowned, trying to think, then shook her head. "I have no idea." Everything, suddenly, was too new to her: both the world around her and her own life. All this time, she'd been _fighting_... and now she no longer had anything to fight and she felt directionless.

Holmes frowned, concerned at how overwhelmed Beth suddenly looked. _Well, can you blame her? Everything's been moving so fast since yesterday morning... When have either of you had a chance to catch your breath?_ "Well... perhaps you would care to take a walk? The Temple Gardens are only a step or two from here." Watson had always enjoyed strolling with him there, even in the winter.

She smiled reassuringly at his look of worry. "I'd like that." A normal walk in a normal park sounded _marvellous_.

* * *

 **Sky:** Wooow. Well, for the majority of the many drafts that this finale has gone through, Beth always went back to her own time. But then again, she always died trying to get Sherlock to leave Torchwood. When we came up with the final draft, and Beth survived the end of the 'The Dying Detective', married Sherlock in 'Every Good Fairytale', and then died at the end of that episode, we decided that our poor children had been through enough pain. We couldn't make them separate again at the end of the finale; that would have been too cruel.

But then that posed its own set of problems, to which part of the answer had to be that she would be able to travel in time herself and not have to sacrifice her birth family and the greater freedoms of her own era to live with her husband. Anything else just didn't work, and left us with a lot of options for the next season!

 **Ria:** Yes, a lot of tears were shed during those initial drafts of the finale – in the very _first_ draft, they only had their first real kiss just before Beth left! Oh, my heart... What the heck were we thinking?!

Well, at least it all worked out in the end. Speaking of which... stay tuned for chapter 4, and the climax of the Bruce-Partington case!


	4. Until Tomorrow

**==Chapter 4==**

 **Until Tomorrow**

" _I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."_  
― Marilyn Monroe

Despite the lingering fog and there being few flowers at this time of year, the Temple Gardens were as picturesque as Holmes remembered. Then, too, it felt wonderful to have a quiet moment with Beth, for a change. No crowds, no dire emergencies, no need to dash off anywhere – they could finally relax and just enjoy each other's company. As they walked, his free hand went unconsciously to his coat pocket, making sure he still had the precious envelope... and his brow furrowed as his fingers made contact with something hard. What on earth?

Beth was enjoying the scenery and the peace herself when she noticed Sherlock's frown. "What is it?"

"There's more than paper in this envelope." Holmes took it from his pocket and opened it carefully. As he drew out the license, something metallic – no, _two_ metallic somethings – fell out of the folded paper and back into the envelope with a _clink_.

Her eyes widened. "Rings?" They were beautiful... and they looked used. The signet ring, she recognised as bearing the Holmes family crest. Had these been his parents' rings?

Equally wide-eyed, Holmes pocketed the license again and tipped the rings into his hand, shaking his head. "Dear Mycroft... He does have his sentimental moments." And it had been a very long time since he'd last seen that crest... but the intervening years still hadn't taken the edge off any of the memories.

Beth's smile faded when she realised that Sherlock's had. _"She was determined to call their second child 'Sherlock', if it was a boy... And as Father obligingly told me the day I left: 'if they'd ever had one.'"_ She could imagine why his good mood had evaporated. "Sweetheart..." She held his arm tightly, comfortingly, and leaned against him. Her poor husband...

He squeezed back gratefully. "I think, my dear, our next stop ought to be a jeweller's. It was kind of Mycroft to think of it, but I confess, I have no great desire to wear this particular heirloom."

"I'm sorry," she murmured. Sorry that he'd had a truly awful father, sorry that he had to deal with that kind of pain... sorry that he couldn't bear to wear the ring. _It would look amazing on him_. _Well, it's not about what you think, though, is it?_

He gladly dropped the signet ring back in the envelope, resisting with difficulty the sudden urge to walk the hundred or so feet to the Thames and throw it in. Still holding the second ring, he walked on with Beth towards a nearby bench. "Father... Well, having met Mycroft should give you some idea of what he was like. Although Edward Holmes was decidedly more... imperious."

She shrugged slightly, but had to keep her tone low as she said, "What you told me in Switzerland wasn't very favorable." _I can't imagine Mycroft being much at all like a father who could be so cruel to his own son_.

Of course – he'd half forgotten what he had told Beth while he was... _full up to the knocker on homebrew? ...yes, quite..._ "As you've probably guessed, he and his forebears were country squires; and unlike Grandfather Holmes, he took his responsibilities seriously." He'd heard plenty of anecdotes about Mycroft Holmes Snr's excesses from his namesake.

Beth winced, wondering what Sherlock's grandfather must have been like. "Mm."

They reached the bench and sat down together. "Then after Mycroft decided his calling lay in government circles, Father rested his hopes upon me to take over the family estate." Holmes sighed. "And, as you know, I disappointed him sorely by rejecting what he considered my familial duty, in favour of my true vocation."

She winced again but nodded, raising a hand to cup his cheek, stroking it slowly with her thumb. He smiled faintly at it, his eyes sad. She didn't know what to say. True, she hadn't always had the smoothest relationship with her own father, but she knew that was due to distance and also to her own stubborn insistence that she wanted to go into the Yard when he didn't want her following in his footsteps. But her troubles were nothing compared to what her poor husband's had been...

"We quarrelled bitterly over it – honestly, I might even have given in, had it not been for Mycroft. He told me bluntly that to spend my life in pursuit of..." Holmes's voice sounded more bitter than he'd intended as he continued: "our noble sire's approval would be a complete waste of my time and talents." _"The land is in your blood, Sherlock, true, but not in your head, any more than mine."_ "And he was right: neither of us possessed a great enough love of the land to be good stewards of it. Father would have been disappointed either way."

She rested her head on his shoulder and dropped her hand from his cheek to take his hand. "I'm sorry," she murmured. He would have been only a year or so older than her. She couldn't imagine...

He leaned his head against hers, opening his other hand and looking wistfully down at his mother's ring: a plain band of gold adorned with a cluster of tiny diamonds around a rose-cut sapphire. How he wished he could remember her wearing it... or anything at all besides his one, distant memory...

Beth bit her lip at the look on his face; it broke her heart. "Sherlock… I don't have to wear it if you would rather not."

"Oh, _cherie_..." He kissed her hand with a faint smile, his voice low but sincere. "If you wish to wear it, I shouldn't mind in the least. To be honest, this is only the second time I've ever seen it."

"When did you see it before?"

"Her jewellery box. I... I'm sorry, I've never told you, have I?" _Stupid question – when have you ever told anyone?_ Beth shook her head, and he closed his eyes for a moment. "Our mother died when I was only a year old. She never fully recovered her strength after giving birth the second time... and she contracted pneumonia the next winter..." _Sherlock Holmes, don't you even_ _ **think**_ _about it, you_ _ **know**_ _what would happen!_

She bit her lip and wrapped her arm around his waist, holding him close and trying not to cry. Poor Sherlock... and his poor mother...

He put his arm around her, continuing quietly, "After she died, Father ordered her room locked – I only ever saw inside once, just before being sent away to school." He hadn't regretted leaving, not with Mycroft already away at Oxford.

"How?" she murmured, heart aching for him.

"I, er, borrowed the key from the housekeeper. Unfortunately, she noticed it was missing before I could return it."

She smiled in sympathy and squeezed him gently. "Awww! Did you get a good look, though?"

He nodded. "Her dressing table fascinated me especially. She had so many beautiful things, delicate things, nothing like the heavy antiquities on display downstairs..." He looked back down at the ring; "and then I saw this. She had plenty of other jewellery, a king's ransom it seemed to me at the time... but out of everything in that case, this was the only piece that truly seemed to belong to her."

Beth's smile turned sad and a little wistful. She couldn't help being intrigued by the thought of her mother-in-law's possessions. wondering what they must have been like, but more than that... _I can't ever meet her, can I? And I want to. I want to meet the woman that Sherlock Holmes obviously took after_... "And now you have it back," she said softly.

He kissed her cheek, murmuring tenderly, "Which will be yours very soon, my darling – if you wish it, of course."

She nodded shyly, more than a little awed to actually be receiving his mother's ring. "I do."

 _And tomorrow you get to say it back..._ "Then shall we see if it fits?"

She stared at the ring, heart beating rapidly as Sherlock slid it onto her finger—it was beautiful and it was _her_ wedding band now and it felt like a concrete promise that she and Sherlock wouldn't be parted again. She inhaled slowly. "It's a bit big, but... I'm... sure I can grow into it..." She knew she was very thin right now, but the way that Mrs. Hudson cooked, she was sure to gain pounds quickly.

"Well, if not, we can have it resized at the jeweller's." He lifted her hand and kissed it. Beth looked so happy... and the ring suited her perfectly, the sapphire at its centre the same sparkling blue as her eyes...

"We need something for you, though..."

"Mm. I only wish I could promise you never to take it off again after tomorrow." Disguises were a necessary part of his profession, and there might still be times when wearing a ring would be unwise.

She shook her head. "It's okay." Having been in disguise more often than not herself for the better part of a year, she understood. She tilted her head and gestured at the envelope. "May I see the other one?"

"Of course."

He handed it to her, and she pulled out the ring and studied it. She certainly understood why he didn't even want to _see_ it, much less _wear_ it, but still... The crest was beautiful. _It would look amazing on his hand..._ "What if... what if we managed a ring for you that still had your family's crest on it?" She couldn't quite meet his gaze, her cheeks coloring a bit.

Holmes blinked. "I... suppose..." Was she... blushing? "Does it really mean that much to you, love?"

She blushed furiously then. "I just... um... I thought... that could be really... you wearing a ring like that... really... sexy," she finished in a small voice, then ducked her head. _Oh, good job, you couldn't possibly have sounded any more_ stupid _... Keep your stupid ideas to yourself next time_.

He began to laugh, though blushing himself. "And here I thought," he murmured teasingly, "that I didn't need jewellery to get you excited..."

She groaned, still not looking up. _Just let me drop through the ground right now, please._ "You don't..."

Dear heaven, she was enchanting like this... "Well, well..."

Shivering at his deepened tone, her head snapped up, eyes wide. "Sherlock, not in public!" she hissed in a whisper.

"You started it," he grinned, then relented as her eyes narrowed; she looked as if she were itching to smack him. "I'm sure we can have a suitable piece commissioned in time, sweetheart."

She relaxed, feeling a bit shy again. "Only if you _want_ to, honey—I don't want you to wear something, especially something that important, just because of my silliness."

He shook his head, smiling tenderly. "I don't think it silly, Beth, truly. And to be honest, I... I would be glad to have some pleasanter memories attached to this crest." _However M-rated... Hush._

Smiling adoringly back at him, she leaned up to kiss him, then remembered that they were still in public and raised his hand to kiss it instead.

He followed her lead, although he thought it was probably a little late for either of them to be worrying about their reputations. "Dearest Beth..." he murmured, caressing her fingers, "why did I not kiss you when I first wanted to?"

She smiled dreamily at his touch. "On the train?" Since their marriage, she'd realised that their long awkward moment on the train in France had been the result of them _both_ wanting to kiss each other.

His smile turned sheepish. "In the wings at Wyndham's Theater."

Her eyes widened again. "What?"

"Although I believe you were somewhat distracted at the time."

Beth winced at the memory. "By evil heels, yes... You wanted to kiss me?"

He nodded, blush returning. "I must confess I was... rather taken aback by your general appearance, and... well... the thought did cross my mind for the briefest of moments – which I banished a moment later, or at least I thought I had..."

Colouring again herself, she tried to puzzle out this new information. "You wanted to kiss me... way back then...? Because... I looked pretty?" Nope, she couldn't wrap her mind around it at all.

 _I thought you looked breathtaking..._ "I think it was the first time I had truly seen you as... well, as more than a child."

Her eyes lit up at that. "And you wanted to kiss me..." _You sound like a broken phonograph record. I can't help it! He wanted to_ _ **kiss**_ _me, way back then!_

He nodded again, smile tinged with remorse. "But after everything I had done to offend you, I shudder to think how you might have responded!"

She blinked. "Are you kidding me?! Sherlock Holmes, I think you would have had a hard time getting away from me!" Given that, past the initial shock, her lips would have been stubbornly glued to his... It was still a shock now: that meant that he'd had _some_ feelings—and even had been aware of them to some extent—long before she thought he had. "How would you have done it?"

"I'm... not sure – it was a fleeting impulse, remember." _You'd probably have made a mess of it, anyhow..._ "But rest assured, _cherie_ ," he cupped her cheek, smile widening, "I do intend to atone for my lamentable error..." _Ah, forgotten where you are, have you?_ Holmes sighed. "...at the first available opportunity."

She leaned into his touch and echoed his sigh. "I am more and more wanting to go somewhere where we can just kiss in public and it won't be a big deal..." Being able to return to the future at will sounded more amazing than ever right now—for all the faults of her own era, at least kissing in public wasn't socially forbidden.

Holmes glanced around thoughtfully – the gardens did seem otherwise deserted for the moment. "Well... we don't appear to have any inconvenient witnesses just now..."

She smirked slightly. "What _is_ the punishment for kissing in public, anyway?"

"Oh, that would be a most shocking breach of etiquette, to be sure. I'm afraid we would be subject to sternly raised eyebrows in higher circles ever afterwards."

She grinned. "In other words, nothing that I won't already be exposed to."

Grinning himself, he leaned in, murmuring, "Well, if you're certain you can bear it..." She tilted her head back expectantly, eyes shining.

He put his arms around her and kissed her warmly, thrilling at the soft caress of her lips, her quiet hum of happiness as she kissed him back, arms winding around his neck. It was probably a good thing this spot wasn't any more secluded...

* * *

The rest of the day was busy, especially with nine people moving back and forth between the TARDIS and 221B—including Will, who wanted to see the inside, and not including Mrs. Hudson, who had enough to do within her own domain. When evening finally arrived, they had a quiet dinner, and then Sherlock and John left for the stakeout. The inventors retreated to the TARDIS for the night, exploring it further before they had to go home. Mrs. Hudson and the Doctor chatted amiably in the kitchen, and Beth could have sworn that the Time Lord really was charming their landlady, but she couldn't tell whether it was innocently or intentionally.

Sally put the baby to sleep and left her in her new basket bed upstairs, and came back down to the sitting room to relax. Both girls ended up on the settee, looking at the photos Sally had taken that afternoon and developed in the TARDIS's darkroom. (And of _course_ she had a darkroom—she had everything else!)

Beth grinned at the colourful assortment—it was so nice to see actual _colour_ photographs again. "You got some really great shots." Not the least of which was a beautifully composed shot of the TARDIS herself.

"Especially of you," Sally smiled, picking up her favourite photo of the lot: Beth in the control room, looking gorgeous in her elegant Victorian wedding dress and Mrs. Hudson's veil (something old _and_ borrowed!), one hand on the console and smiling affectionately up at the Time rotor. Her friend just looked so radiantly happy, it made Sally want to cry... She'd probably need a good supply of handkerchiefs tomorrow.

Beth blushed. "I guess... " They had raided the TARDIS wardrobe and discovered _several_ Victorian wedding dresses that Beth could fit into. Given her experience of the night before, she strongly suspected the TARDIS had come up with a selection just for her, which was really very sweet and left her wishing she could have had more time to get to know the ship better.

"We're going to have keep these in a _very_ safe place, though – if anyone else sees them..." Quite apart from what was in these pictures, colour photography wouldn't be nearly up to this quality yet.

Beth's eyes widened—she couldn't even imagine... "Oh my gosh, yes." Then she sighed, the full implications of that hitting home. "Probably be a lot of that going on..." She and Sally had their phones back, for one thing, and in general, there would likely be a lot of things—not just technology—that they would have to be careful about.

Sally grinned at a stealthily-taken photo of the Doctor with Kathy in his arms, the Time Lord obviously speaking Baby from the silly expression on his face. "Mrs. Hudson says I can use the bathroom for a darkroom when I get my own camera." Her eyes sparkled as she remembered the window shopping trip with John that morning, which had just happened to take them past the Delatouche studio... "I've wanted to try plate photography for ages, but authentic equipment was always too expensive."

Beth all but bounced on the settee. "That's awesome! Are you going to try to do it professionally?" She knew very well that Sally wasn't going to be content to stay in a more traditional female role, and given the older girl's love of photography, it seemed like just the thing for her to try as a career.

"I'm thinking about it – it's only ever been a hobby before, but... hey, I've always hated the fact that there aren't more photos from this century. Who knows... I could've been inspired by some of my own work, even."

Beth raised her eyebrows at the idea. "Absolutely... and wouldn't _that_ be wild..." She wiggled a bit closer and rested her head on Sally's shoulder. _I've missed her so much_... "Definitely go for it."

Sally set the photos down and put her arms round Beth's shoulders, enjoying the sisterly moment. "So... what about you?"

Beth looked up questioningly. "What about me?"

"Sorry, it's just... when we first got here, I never imagined we'd _both_ be staying, and..." Sally grinned apologetically. "Well, call me a suffragette, but I really can't see you sitting around all day, waiting for Sherlock to come home, either." She knew her friend, Beth would be clawing the paper off the walls in no time.

Beth hummed in agreement, expression turning wistful. "I honestly don't know. I mean, all my life I've wanted to be the next Inspector Lestrade, and now..." She shook her head—she hadn't thought about it that much, but she did understand from the first that her marriage to Sherlock would probably negate any chance of her becoming a Yarder. "I don't know..."

"Mm. Have you talked to Sherlock about it?"

"No... I mean, we've hardly had time! I only found out this morning that I would even be able to stay with Sherlock here, so..." The younger girl shrugged helplessly.

Sally gave her a sympathetic nudge. "Hey, it's okay. No one's saying you have to have your whole life figured out, it's just something to think about. And I bet Sherlock wouldn't mind you being with him on some of his other cases – it's not like you can't look after yourself!"

Beth smiled ruefully; she wasn't sure that she agreed with that. "I guess so... and I've already been seriously on-board for this case." She winced as something occurred to her. "I can think of a couple, though, that... well... I'd kind of rather that they didn't pan out quite the way I've always read they did." _'The Dancing Men', 'The Devil's Foot', 'The Illustrious Client'..._

Sally grimaced. "Yeah, I think I know the ones you mean..." Her gaze drifted out the window into the dark. "Does this feel weird for you, too?"

"Something in particular, or everything?"

God, how to put it into words... "I guess... knowing what's going on with those two, even though we're not there? It's like I've got the Granada episode playing in my head –" With a shaky laugh, "After what happened in '88, I don't know if I can ever watch that series again!"

Beth grinned. "Whoa, now, if you think just because I'm married to the real thing, I'm not going to watch Jeremy Brett, you're dead wrong." She laughed and continued, "But yeah, I know what you mean... although I'm discovering more and more all the time that your husband takes some _remarkable_ artistic license when he writes!"

"Mm-hm..." Sally grinned. "We might have to give him a hand with this one." Just for starters, making sure that no one was mentioned in the story who shouldn't be...

Beth blinked. "Actually, I really do have to! I just realised that one scene he wrote... will write... as having witnessed... _I_ was there, instead. That meeting this morning with Mycroft and the Inspector."

"Oh, wow. So how'd it go?"

"Ah, pretty well, I think. Poor Geoffrey was shocked." Beth was determined to be very, very kind to her several-times-great grandfather every chance she got—heaven knew he deserved it. "Mycroft was surprised to see me there, but he was very kind."

Sally laughed as she pictured the Inspector's face, then sobered, looking thoughtful. "I wonder if Mycroft's worked it out yet..."

Beth groaned. She wasn't sure how she felt about Mycroft figuring it out: on one hand, she genuinely wanted to tell him... and on the other hand, she had the feeling that Sherlock didn't. "I have no idea. I mean, we know that he is better at this stuff than Sherlock, but even so..." She shook her head. "I don't know."

Sally shrugged – she couldn't imagine that Mycroft wouldn't put it all together, eventually. "Well, I don't think we need to worry. Mycroft's just as good as our boys at keeping secrets. I can't believe I _finally_ get to meet him tomorrow!"

Beth grinned. "He is great. I think you'll love him." She was already hoping to someday get Mycroft alone to herself so that she could ply him for stories about Sherlock when he was little—all the stories that she was quite sure her husband wouldn't want her to hear.

"I wish John could put him in more of his stories. _'The Greek Interpreter'_ can't be the only other time they've worked together..." Sally frowned; "will work..." then gave up with a sigh.

Beth laughed ruefully—verb tenses really were going to be a problem from here on out. "I know what you mean, though. Maybe we can talk him into writing up more cases and doing time capsule-type things."

"Ooh, I _like_ that idea!" And speaking of ideas, this did seem a good moment... "Um, Beth, can I ask you something? John and I were talking things over... and we realised we hadn't decided on godparents for Kathy yet. So, we were wondering, would you and Sherlock...?"

Beth's eyes widened—she hadn't even considered... "Y-yes!" She smiled, eyes shining. "Oh my gosh, yes, of course!" She straightened up and hugged Sally tightly.

"Thank you..." Sally hugged her back, blinking as her eyes grew moist. They might not be related, but Beth and Sherlock were family in every way that mattered. "Just don't say anything to Sherlock yet, okay? I'd like to ask him personally, too."

"Oh, _please_ make sure I'm there when you do!"

Sally chuckled. "Absolutely." She probably wouldn't get many chances in future to render the Great Detective dumbfounded – that moment was going to be _priceless_.

* * *

After the busyness of the past two days, it felt lovely to relax. That was exactly what the Doctor, Nikola, and George were doing in the TARDIS's library, sitting by the pool and sipping tropical drinks. Since they had to be left out of tonight's action, the Doctor had had the idea to read aloud Watson's written account to the inventors, straight out of a mint-condition issue of the _Strand_ :

"It was a relief to me when at last, after a light dinner, we set out upon our expedition. Lestrade and Mycroft met us by appointment at the outside of Gloucester Road Station. The area door of Oberstein's house had been left open the night before, and it was necessary for me, as Mycroft Holmes absolutely and indignantly declined to climb the railings, to pass in and open the hall door. By nine o'clock we were all seated in the study, waiting patiently for our man.

An hour passed and yet another. When eleven struck, the measured beat of the great church clock seemed to sound the dirge of our hopes. Lestrade and Mycroft were fidgeting in their seats and looking twice a minute at their watches. Holmes sat silent and composed, his eyelids half shut, but every sense on the alert."

" _Does he actually_ _ **do**_ _that?" George asked curiously – their adventure at Niagara had left none of them any time to sit around._

 _The Doctor nodded, grinning—he'd seen Sherlock do that more than once_.

"He raised his head with a sudden jerk. 'He is coming,' said he.

There had been a furtive step past the door. Now it returned. We heard a shuffling sound outside, and then two sharp taps with the knocker. Holmes rose, motioning us to remain seated. The gas in the hall was a mere point of light. He opened the outer door, and then as a dark figure slipped past him he closed and fastened it. 'This way!' we heard him say, and a moment later our man stood before us. Holmes had followed him closely, and as the man turned with a cry of surprise and alarm he caught him by the collar and threw him back into the room. Before our prisoner had recovered his balance the door was shut and Holmes standing with his back against it. The man glared round him, staggered, and fell senseless upon the floor. With the shock, his broad-brimmed hat flew from his head, his cravat slipped down from his lips, and there were the long, light beard and the soft, handsome, delicate features of Colonel Valentine Walter."

 _George gaped, while Nikola groaned, slapping his palm to his forehead. "Of course!"_

"Holmes gave a whistle of surprise. 'You can write me down an ass this time, Watson,' said he. 'This was not the bird that I was looking for.'"

" _Come on, Doctor," George grinned. "Holmes doesn't sound anything like that, you're not even trying!"_

 _"Oh, right, would **you** rather do it instead?" At least the Doctor actually __**sounded**_ _British, which was more than he could say for either of the inventors..._

"'Who is he?' asked Mycroft eagerly.

'The younger brother of the late Sir James Walter, the head of the Submarine Department. Yes, yes; I see the fall of the cards. He is coming to. I think that you had best leave his examination to me.'"

 _Nikola frowned. "But wouldn't Mycroft already know who he is? The brother of a government employee..."_

 _The Doctor tsked. "Haven't you ever read 'The Final Problem'? Holmes explains to Watson who Moriarty is—in 1891, years after he does it in reality. Writer's license—for the reader's sake."_

"We had carried the prostrate body to the sofa."

" _Should've left him on the floor," George grunted in disgust._

"Now our prisoner sat up, looked round him with a horror-stricken face, and passed his hand over his forehead, like one who cannot believe his own senses. 'What is this?' he asked. 'I came here to visit Mr. Oberstein.'

'Everything is known, Colonel Walter,' said Holmes. 'How an English gentleman could behave in such a manner is beyond my comprehension. But your whole correspondence and relations with Oberstein are within our knowledge. So also are the circumstances connected with the death of young Cadogan West. Let me advise you to gain at least the small credit for repentance and confession, since there are still some details which we can only learn from your lips.'"

" _Weeell..." Nikola murmured mischievously._

 _The Doctor shushed him, lips twitching.  
_

"The man groaned and sank his face in his hands. We waited, but he was silent."

" _Where's a telepath when you need one?" George said innocently, making Nikola roll his eyes._

"'I can assure you,' said Holmes, 'that every essential is already known. We know that you were pressed for money; that you took an impress of the keys which your brother held; and that you entered into a correspondence with Oberstein, who answered your letters through the advertisement columns of the Daily Telegraph. We are aware that you went down to the office in the fog on Monday night, but that you were seen and followed by young Cadogan West, who had probably some previous reason to suspect you. He saw your theft, but could not give the alarm, as it was just possible that you were taking the papers to your brother in London. Leaving all his private concerns, like the good citizen that he was, he followed you closely in the fog and kept at your heels until you reached this very house. There he intervened, and then it was, Colonel Walter, that to treason you added the more terrible crime of murder.'

'I did not! I did not! Before God I swear that I did not!' cried our wretched prisoner.

'Tell us, then, how Cadogan West met his end before you laid him upon the roof of a railway carriage.'

'I will. I swear to you that I will. I did the rest. I confess it. It was just as you say. A Stock Exchange debt had to be paid. I needed the money badly. Oberstein offered me five thousand. It was to save myself from ruin. But as to murder, I am as innocent as you.'

'What happened, then?'

'He had his suspicions before, and he followed me as you describe. I never knew it until I was at the very door. It was thick fog, and one could not see three yards. I had given two taps and Oberstein had come to the door. The young man rushed up and demanded to know what we were about to do with the papers. Oberstein had a short lifepreserver. He always carried it with him. As West forced his way after us into the house, Oberstein struck him on the head. The blow was a fatal one. He was dead within five minutes. There he lay in the hall, and we were at our wit's end what to do. Then Oberstein had this idea about the trains which halted under his back window. But first he examined the papers which I had brought. He said that three of them were essential, and that he must keep them. "You cannot keep them," said I. "There will be a dreadful row at Woolwich if they are not returned." "I must keep them," said he, "for they are so technical that it is impossible in the time to make copies." "Then they must all go back together to-night," said I. He thought for a little, and then he cried out that he had it. "Three I will keep," said he. "The others we will stuff into the pocket of this young man. When he is found the whole business will assuredly be put to his account." I could see no other way out of it, so we did as he suggested. We waited half an hour at the window before a train stopped. It was so thick that nothing could be seen, and we had no difficulty in lowering West's body on to the train. That was the end of the matter so far as I was concerned.'"

" _Poor, brave kid," George murmured sadly. No good deed unpunished..._

 _The Doctor nodded in silent agreement, hearts aching. It wasn't fair: the Holmeses and the Watsons got their happy endings, but where was the happy ending for West, or his_ _fiancée, or his mother? The Time Lord had to clear his throat before he could continue._

"'And your brother?'

'He said nothing, but he had caught me once with his keys, and I think that he suspected. I read in his eyes that he suspected. As you know, he never held up his head again.'

There was silence in the room. It was broken by Mycroft Holmes. 'Can you not make reparation? It would ease your conscience, and possibly your punishment.'

'What reparation can I make?'

'Where is Oberstein with the papers?'"

 _George's brows shot up. "What, Beth never told Holmes?"_

 _"Not a word," the Doctor said proudly. From beginning to end, Beth had been magnificent_.

"'I do not know.'

'Did he give you no address?'

'He said that letters to the Hôtel du Louvre, Paris, would eventually reach him.'

'Then reparation is still within your power,' said Sherlock Holmes.

'I will do anything I can. I owe this fellow no particular good-will. He has been my ruin and my downfall.'

'Here are paper and pen. Sit at this desk and write to my dictation. Direct the envelope to the address given. That is right. Now the letter:

"Dear Sir:  
"With regard to our transaction, you will no doubt have observed by now that one essential detail is missing. I have a tracing which will make it complete. This has involved me in extra trouble, however, and I must ask you for a further advance of five hundred pounds. I will not trust it to the post, nor will I take anything but gold or notes. I would come to you abroad, but it would excite remark if I left the country at present. Therefore I shall expect to meet you in the smoking-room of the Charing Cross Hotel at noon on Saturday. Remember that only English notes, or gold, will be taken."

'That will do very well. I shall be very much surprised if it does not fetch our man.'"

* * *

Nikola nodded in satisfaction as the Doctor paused. "Did you know, Doctor, Beth rewrote that letter almost word for word while tracking Oberstein down in Paris?"

The Doctor looked up, both eyebrows raised. "You're kidding." That was either a phenomenal memory or reading the story way too many times—or both. It could be both. Either way, that was really impressive.

"The timing seems a bit off, though, doesn't it?" George frowned. "How on earth is Oberstein supposed to get that letter in time to come back to London by noon tomorrow?" He grinned at a sudden thought: "I don't suppose you had a hand in delivering it, Doctor?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Watson's a good writer, but even he makes mistakes. You should see all the date inconsistencies there are just in the stories published right now!" Either that, or Watson was deliberately obscuring dates, but in either case, it left a tangle that no fan thereafter could ever satisfactorily solve.

He closed the _Strand_ issue with regret. "Well, I'd love to read the rest to you right now, but I probably shouldn't. Besides, tomorrow's a big day."

Nikola hummed in agreement, which turned into a jaw-cracking yawn. "Not least because _someone_..." grinning at George, who was starting to turn pink, "is giving away the bride."

The Doctor echoed the grin. "George, _Beth_ _'s_ supposed to be the one blushing!"

Though George's smile was sheepish, his eyes glowed with pride. He might not be able to walk Beth down the aisle – a practice runthrough with Mrs. Hudson had been an education for everyone – but it would still be one of the greatest honours of his life.

* * *

Holmes opened the sitting room door carefully as the hall clock struck midnight – he'd seen from the street that the lamps were dimmed. Beth was curled up on the settee in one of his nightshirts, one of Watson's novels slipping from her fingers as she stirred. He turned the gas down further, the fire still lighting the room well enough to see, then sat on the edge of the settee beside her, lightly smoothing a hand over her hair.

A familiar gentle touch returned Beth to consciousness, and she hummed softly, slowly opening her eyes. "Sherlock..." She felt disoriented for a second before realising that she wasn't in the TARDIS—she was in 221B. _I haven't actually slept here yet until now_.

"Yes, my darling." He bent and kissed her cheek. "Have you been waiting up all this time?"

"Meant to," she said drowsily. "Kind of fell asleep..."

"I'm so sorry, Beth. The stakeout took a good deal longer than I had anticipated. You must be exhausted." He should have insisted that she go to bed; it had been hard enough for he and Watson to stay awake in the dark of Oberstein's chambers, even with Mycroft and Lestrade there.

She smiled fondly. "It's okay..." She yawned. "I had an idea of what time you'd get back."

He grinned ruefully; he was starting to get the feeling he'd never get away with anything around her. "But now that we have Colonel Walter in custody, nothing more need be done until Sunday." Impatient as he was to close the case once and for all, Oberstein could not receive the Colonel's letter, written a mere hour ago, in time to travel from Paris to London by tomorrow – through contemporary means, at least.

It took a moment for the importance of that to sink in, and then she beamed despite her heavy eyelids. "Really? Honey, that's fantastic."

"Indeed. West's mother and fiancée will be greatly relieved that he was not involved in the theft of the plans after all. Such a scandal might have ruined them irreparably." Mycroft would have done all he could to keep the affair hushed up, but 'polite' society could be terribly cruel to victims of circumstance, Holmes had seen it happen all too often.

Beth's smile turned sad. "I imagine they'll be grateful just to have his name cleared..." Why did life have to be so unfair?

He nodded soberly. "A truly noble and courageous young man." He really should have known better than to jump to conclusions at the beginning of the case. "I wish I could have done more for him."

She pushed herself up and wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his back comfortingly. "We do what we can," she murmured, "and the rest is out of our hands."

Holmes returned the embrace, grateful for her comforting touch. "That does sound extremely familiar," he murmured back, smiling as she rested her head on his shoulder; turned his head and kissed her hair, breathing deeply, inhaling her scent: that elusive, delicate perfume which always defied definition, but was so intrinsically _her_.

He could have simply continued to sit there with her in his arms, enjoying the sweetness of this moment – but even as the thought occurred, he heard the mantel clock begin chiming the quarter hour, echoed by the hall clock below. He sighed deeply. "Well, I suppose... we should both go to bed." It was going to be a restless night without Beth beside him, even if it was only the once. He stroked her cheek, smiling tenderly. "We do have rather a full day tomorrow."

She smiled wearily back, leaning into his touch and sighing. "I don't want to go back downstairs."

 _I don't want that, either..._ "Well..." His head tilted at a sudden thought. "Maybe you don't have to. Did Mrs. Hudson say anything at all about your waiting up for me?"

She looked at him in surprise, then blinked. "Actually... no... Sherlock, you don't think...?"

Holmes nodded, smiling a touch ruefully. "I think, my love, that Mrs. Hudson can be as eagle-eyed as Mycroft himself in her own domain. I strongly suspect she has already realised it's a little late to be concerned about proprieties."

Beth blushed, eyes widening, and bit her lip. _And we're in Victorian times here... I hope she doesn't think any less of me._ She didn't think she could bear the dear woman's disapproval. "All right, then..."

"If she truly disapproved, sweetheart, we would know it, believe me." Rising, he was about to offer her a hand up, then changed his mind and gathered her up in his arms, carrying her through to the bedroom.

She smiled, her apprehension evaporating. "You are never going to stop doing this, are you?"

Holmes gazed at her adoringly, murmuring, "Never, love." He set her down on the bed, rummaged in the bureau for a nightshirt of his own and started to undress automatically.

"Well, I am definitely not complaining," she smiled. Not about the action or the view...

He got as far as his shirt buttons before he even became aware of Beth raptly watching him from under the covers. He was tempted for a moment to ask if she'd like to assist, but he really was ready to drop, too; getting her excited now wouldn't be fair on either of them. Trying to pretend he hadn't noticed, he finished undressing and donned his nightshirt, turning towards the bed at last and letting himself look at her.

Oh... he was giving her _that_ look. She didn't even have a name for it—he was looking at her as if she took his breath away, and consequently it took _hers_ , as well. "I love you," she murmured, her voice heavy with emotion.

"I love _you_." A grateful sigh escaped him as his weary body met the soft mattress, reaching out to draw her close. She gladly scooted nearer and wrapped her left arm around him, leaving her right hand free to stroke his hair. He smiled drowsily, humming in pleasure. It felt so nice...

His eyelids were floating. She smiled back, heart full to bursting, and leaned up to kiss his cheek softly. "Goodnight, honey."

He leaned in and kissed her tenderly. "Goodnight, dearest," he whispered. She closed her eyes, her hand still resting on his head as her breathing grew slow and deep. She was so amazing... so lovely... How he wished that he need never let her go, or lose even a moment of their new life together in sleep... but the day was finally taking its toll, he could barely... keep his eyes open...

* * *

 **Ria:** *hearts for eyes* So, did anyone figure out who the real thief was? We weren't sure whether to include the stakeout scene to start with, until we realised it wouldn't be fair for any readers who haven't actually read the case before – so rather than just copy it verbatim or roleplay it, we gave it a new twist! And the case isn't concluded yet, or the story... Stay tuned for chapter 5, and a looong-awaited union! ;D


	5. Dearly Beloved

**==Chapter 5==**

 **Dearly Beloved**

 _I will hold your hand when you are a pocketful of roses.  
I will hold your hand when you are brittle falling leaves.  
I will hold your hand when you are a ray of sunshine.  
I will hold your hand when you are painful as ice._

– Mark Dimaisip

The bells of St Marylebone Parish Church were pealing merrily, the organist playing a soft rendition of 'Abide With Me', a special request from the bride and groom. At the head of the wedding party, Sally picked up her bouquet, took a deep breath and her husband's arm, then glanced behind at Sherlock and Beth, beaming at how radiant the pair looked, not to mention nervous – they were the most adorable couple she'd ever seen.

Beth had been expecting a Victorian wedding to be different from what she was used to, but it still felt a bit weird to her. Sally and Watson, as the matron of honour and the best man, went down the aisle first, and that much was familiar, but rather than the father of the bride always escorting the bride to the groom, the bride and groom could choose to walk together, their families following. In this case, George and Mycroft.

Then again, as she and Sherlock started down the aisle, she was suddenly very grateful that he was walking with her. The butterflies in her stomach were insane: half the people here actually knew that she and Sherlock were already married! (All right, maybe less than half, but _still_.) This was just a _formality_.

 _Maybe it wasn't entirely real to you yet, though. ...okay, maybe_. Going into the ceremony now, she could appreciate how it took courage for people to do this—courage to say their vows in front of family and friends and mean it.

Holmes put his free hand on Beth's where it rested on his arm, stroking her fingers, noting with mixed concern and relief that they were trembling as much as his. He hadn't expected to be quite _this_ nervous at the crucial moment!

She took a shaky breath and grinned weakly at him. _Thank goodness I'm not the only nervous one!_ "Upwards and onwards?" she whispered.

He chuckled silently, whispering back, " _Allons-y, cherie._ "

Reverend Anderson stood waiting before the chancel, resplendent in full regalia and a beatific smile. As the party approached, Holmes had to hide a smile of his own at the sight of the Doctor standing amid the Irregulars in the front pews, all doing their best not to wriggle in excitement under Mrs. Hudson's and Lestrade's stern gazes, Kathy looking wide-eyed but content in Nikola's arms. Holmes reluctantly released Beth so they could stand apart, the rest of the bridal party forming a half-circle behind them; the organ music faded away, and the priest cleared his throat.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained.

"First, It was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name. Secondly, It was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body. Thirdly, It was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can shew any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace."

Beth instantly thought of her parents and wished she hadn't. In her own time, she would still be considered a minor... _And Daddy really will go ballistic when you finally tell him_.

She swallowed hard as the priest then addressed her and Sherlock directly: "I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God's Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful."

Unable to respond aloud, Beth settled for shaking her head minutely, mirrored by Sherlock. "There is none."

"Sherlock Edward Holmes, wilt thou have this woman as thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Holmes gave his blushing bride a tender smile, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He hadn't realised just how much he'd been longing to say the words until this moment: "I will."

"Elizabeth Anne Smith, wilt thou have this man as thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

Beth was already blinking back tears at the look in Sherlock's eyes. "I d—will." She exhaled shakily, eyes wide, mortified at her blunder and relieved she had recovered it in time. Maybe, technically, nothing else did matter but the commitment itself... but still, it felt amazing—and terrifying—to actually make that promise in front of so many people.

"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"

Maybe it was a holdover from much more sexist times, but Beth appreciated this part, and was forever grateful to George for doing it. It was less like she was property being given away, and much more like _he_ had her back.

And George Westinghouse couldn't be more pleased to do it, very aware that it would be the only time in his life that he would ever give away the bride. "I do." He took Beth's hand, noting the tremor in it, and escorted her to Holmes.

Holmes reverently took Beth's right hand in his, hoping fervently his voice wouldn't crack as he repeated after the priest: "I, Sherlock Edward Holmes, take thee, Elizabeth Anne Smith, as my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."

The Doctor watched almost breathlessly. When he'd first thought that maybe Beth could help Sherlock shake off his depression, he'd never imagined that the Great Detective would actually _fall_ _in love_ , much less _marry_. But the _rightness_ of it was already resounding through Time and Space, a triumphant _this was always meant to be_. All that pain, all that wrongness... even Death itself... couldn't keep apart two people who were meant to be together.

Beth's heart beating rapidly, she repeated after the reverend her own vow: "I, Elizabeth Anne Smith, take thee, Sherlock Edward Holmes, as my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."

She and Sherlock dropped their hands, and the priest asked, "Have you the rings?"

His vision a little blurry, Watson stepped forward to give the rings to the man. After years of idle and not-so-idle hoping and frustration and then surrender to the fact of Holmes's bachelorhood, it felt like a privilege to be witnessing his wedding, much less taking part in it.

The priest gave Beth's ring to Holmes, and Beth extended her hand towards Sally.

 _Oops._ Sally started from her reverie, remembering that she still had a job to do. Giving George her bouquet, she peeled off Beth's white lace glove so that Sherlock could slide the ring onto his bride's finger, repeating after the reverend: "With this ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

The priest then extended Sherlock's ring to Beth. As she tried to take it, however, the ring slipped right through her fingers to the floor. _Oh no!_ She blushed hard—she'd been afraid of messing something up, and yet she hadn't thought she actually _would_. She stood frozen, unsure of what to do. _Should I pick it up? Should John since he's the best man? What's the protocol for this?!_

Mrs. Hudson couldn't help a quiet chuckle of delight. Elizabeth hadn't done anything wrong, far from it. As her mother had assured her on her own wedding day, dropping the ring was meant to dislodge any evil spirits lurking within – not that she believed such superstitious nonsense, of course...

Mycroft gave Elizabeth a reassuring nod, bent and retrieved the ring, examining it curiously for a moment as he straightened. It clearly was not the Holmes heirloom, although it had the same crest, engraved inside the band with today's date and the couple's initials. He handed the ring over with a smile that was tinged with apology to both of them – he ought to have considered that Sherlock would have no desire to wear the original.

Beth smiled back ruefully, gratefully, as she took the ring. Holmes, meanwhile, had removed his own left glove and now held out his hand to Beth, glad to find that it was no longer shaking.

Eyes shining, heart thrilling, Beth slid the ring onto her husband's finger and repeated the vow: "With this ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

Then they knelt together, and everyone bowed their heads.

"Let us pray," the reverend intoned. "O, eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life: Send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this man and this woman, whom we bless in thy Name; that, as Isaac and Rebecca lived faithfully together, so these persons may surely perform and keep the vow and covenant betwixt them made, whereof this Ring given and received is a token and pledge, and may ever remain in perfect love and peace together, and live according to thy laws, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

The couple stood, and the priest joined their right hands again. "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. Forasmuch as Sherlock and Elizabeth have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

It was almost the end of the ceremony. Beth looked away from the priest to Sherlock, her eyes wide. It was almost done.

Holmes squeezed her hand gently, greatly wishing he could raise it to his lips, or that wedding ceremonies nowadays included a kiss at all; if they didn't want to scandalise the reverend, they would just have to wait until they'd left the church.

Reverend Anderson slowly made the sign of the cross, beaming as he began the final blessing: "God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully with his favour look upon you; and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen."

Oh gosh, it really was done now. They were husband and wife officially. Beth almost grinned ruefully at Sherlock—she had a pretty good idea of what he was thinking, and she wished that they could have a 'kiss the bride' moment, too. But there _would_ be plenty of time for that later...

* * *

Before they left the church, they had to sign their names in the wedding register. Sherlock wrote his in a gorgeous script that nearly made Beth green with envy. Then it was her turn, and she had to sign with her maiden name. Forgetting herself, she wrote a capital 'L' before she remembered, crossed it out, and wrote 'Smith.' _Zed, why didn't I give myself a name that actually started with an 'L'?_

She looked up and winced: Mycroft was doing that classic Holmes eyebrow. Yeah, a fake name that started with 'L' would definitely have been a smart idea...

* * *

At last, the newlyweds emerged from the church, blinking in the sunlight, to the sound of more bells and a sudden burst of cheering: the Irregulars had crept out early and formed an honour guard on either side of the steps, Will and Charlie saluting proudly at the head of the ranks.

Beth laughed, blinking back tears, and blew them a kiss, sweeping her arm to encompass them all. Her boys—no, wait, _their_ boys. She didn't know what she would have done without them...

Holmes beamed, feeling distinctly misty-eyed himself, then arched a stern eyebrow at Will as the boy piped up cheekily, "Oi, guv'nor, ain't yew gotta kiss fer the bride?"

 _Well, the lad does have a point..._ Holmes turned to Beth with a questioning smile, which she answered with a smile of her own, nodding. She'd been waiting for this moment as much as he had... Gently framing her face with his hands, and ignoring the hoots and whistles from the boys, he leaned in and kissed her tenderly.

A fresh thrill of joy went through her as his lips touched hers, and she kissed him softly back, her hands on his arms. She could have gone for passionate right now—she felt ecstatic—but she couldn't forget that they had an audience.

Sally was smiling so wide, her cheeks were starting to ache. She wrapped her arm around John tightly, eyes glistening – although watching her best friend make out with the Great Detective was still a little bit surreal, she felt as if her heart would burst. Just as misty-eyed, John wound his arm around her waist, holding her close.

Lestrade knew his eyes were unnaturally wide as he watched, but he was still in shock from this whole thing in the first place. And to see the Great Detective so blissfully intimate with a young woman... it practically beggared belief.

Noticing Lestrade's expression, Mycroft sighed – he had to confess, he himself was feeling unusually... well, perhaps 'mellow' was an adequate word for it. "I look forward," he murmured in amusement, half to himself, "to reading the good doctor's account of _this_ case..."

* * *

The reception was held at the Great Central Hotel on Marylebone Road, Mycroft naturally sparing no expense with the catering. Mrs. Hudson had insisted on making the wedding cake, however, and the dear woman had outdone herself: three tiers of flawless white icing, tastefully adorned with white rosebuds and garlands of leaves, sat in pride of place at the feast.

It was the first time Sally had ever been to anything like this, and despite her nervousness over proper etiquette on such a special occasion, she was enjoying herself immensely – besides, the Irregulars' table manners were noticeably less polished than hers and Beth's. One sumptuous course followed another, with speeches and toasts in between from the older adults, even a stammering but heartfelt one from Will. And after all that, the best was still to come.

A string quartet had been playing in one corner during the meal, courtesy of the hotel, and as the company finished dessert, Holmes leaned in towards Beth and murmured, "My dear Mrs. Holmes, may I have the honour of the next dance?"

Beth's eyes sparkled—she'd been waiting for this. "The honour would be mine, Mr. Holmes." She'd been waiting for a very long time.

Holmes caught Watson's eye, and Watson nodded, taking his cue. He rose, cleared his throat, and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please. The first dance is about to begin." He signaled the musicians to start up a waltz.

Sherlock squeezed Beth's hand and stood with her, the other men at the table all doing the same, then led her to the dance floor.

Beth's eyes widened at the amount of ceremony that had to come before the first dance, heart pounding as she followed Sherlock. She was still nervous but also excited, struck with a strong sense of surrealism: the wedding itself, the people attending, the settings... first _the_ one and only St. Marylebone Parish Church and now the rather well-off Great Central Hotel. She knew there were more sumptuous hotels elsewhere in London, but this still felt like the height of luxury.

 _It's like a fairytale_.

The guests followed them, gathering at the edge of the dance floor. Still very conscious of dozens of pairs of eyes on her, Beth leaned towards Sherlock and whispered, "This may not be the greatest time to tell you, but I forgot, I'm sorry... I've never learned to waltz. I've never had to. And I'm not sure whether or not it's something you can fake easily?" She looked hopefully up at him.

"Not to worry, love," he whispered back, taking her hands and discreetly positioning her. "Just follow my lead." Even if she did make a mistake, no one was going to mind.

She nodded minutely, taking a deep breath to relax. "Okay."

The music began, and he tapped his fingers lightly on her waist for the opening bars, teasing out a smile from her to match his own. He started moving her slowly across the dance floor, and she concentrated on the rhythm of the music and how Sherlock moved to it. It wasn't 1940s-50s music, which she'd always thought was probably the best romantic dancing music of all time, but it was... nice. The way he was moving... was very nice... "So you do know how to dance..."

"Mm-hm." A jealously guarded secret, until now. "I've wanted to do this with you since Montreux."

Ow. She smiled ruefully. "I was dying to do this with you in Montreux..."

Holmes's smile was equally regretful; dancing with Beth was even more enjoyable than he'd imagined it would be. "Remind me never to refuse you again."

The Watsons followed them onto the floor a minute later, Sally very glad that John had found a spare moment to coach her the day before. She gave Beth an encouraging smile as they passed each other; her friend was doing brilliantly for her first time.

Beth smiled gratefully back. Thank goodness for Sally—she didn't know what she would have done without her help and calming influence. "Oh well," she murmured teasingly to her husband. "It wasn't a total loss, that day. Got to dance with several cute boys and _still_ ended up married to you."

Holmes chuckled silently, bringing Beth's hand to his lips. "I love you..."

From the sidelines, the Doctor beamed as he watched the Holmeses and the Watsons dance, feeling like nothing so much as a proud father. In the midst of that sensation, however, Will intruded by catching his eye; the Irregular jerked his head almost imperceptibly at Mrs. Hudson, who was holding Kathy and watching the dancing wistfully. Aw, Mrs. H. was the last person who ought to feel left out at this. The Time Lord nodded and glanced meaningfully at Kathy.

Will nudged the landlady, who looked at him in surprise; he shook his head and took Kathy from her.

The Doctor felt that it probably ought to have been George doing this, but he still walked over to Mrs. Hudson, took her hand, and bowed over it. "May I have this dance, milady?"

Mrs. Hudson blinked. Although charming, she'd quickly discovered the Doctor had a highly inflated opinion of himself – might gallantry exceed ability? On the other hand, it had been such a long time... She smiled, giving him a queenly nod. "You may, sir." Head held high, she allowed him to escort her to the floor, where he led her into the waltz with gratifying grace and poise.

Beth's eyes went round when she spotted the newest couple on the floor. "Oh my gosh," she murmured, "look."

Holmes turned, and his eyebrows shot up. "My word..." He hadn't known the _Doctor_ could dance!

Beth grinned. "They're so cute." They both looked so genuinely happy, almost as if... no, no way... _You're projecting, stop_.

"Use that word with Mrs. Hudson, love, and her revenge will be swift and merciless. " _'Endearing', perhaps, or possibly 'adorable'..._

She gulped, not doubting that for a moment. "I won't, then."

He stroked her fingers with the hand holding hers, sighing faintly. "Where is a camera when you need one?" _...You wouldn't be thinking about possible future blackmail, would you? Certainly not..._

"Never around," she commiserated. The Watsons caught her gaze next, dancing and looking like nothing so much as moonstruck teenagers, bless them. She smiled—that was probably what she and Sherlock looked like themselves. _Well, zed, after all we've been through, we've earned a nice evening like this_.

* * *

Once the wedding cake had been cut and dispatched, Mycroft approached the newly-weds with a smile of genuine regret. Holmes grasped his brother's hand warmly. "Thank you for coming, Mycroft. I gather the country was able to survive your absence the last few hours?"

"Indeed it was – but, sadly, I must now take my leave." No rest for the wicked, the paperwork always bred exponentially when one's back was turned.

Beth smiled radiantly. "Thank you for everything, Mr. Holmes." If this evening had been a fairytale, then Mycroft was the fairy... well, godfather, in this case. The metaphor did work, even if the mental image it conjured up was rather silly. But everything had been perfect, and she was immensely grateful.

Mycroft bowed over her hand. "Mycroft, my dear, please. No need for family to stand on ceremony, after all." Although not given to sentimentality as a rule, he had indeed gained a sister this day, and he couldn't have been more pleased.

Beth blushed. "Mycroft." Her smile softened; she liked him so much, and she was so glad he seemed to like her. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. Until tomorrow, then, Sherlock." Mycroft turned to leave, nodding at Lestrade, who was also waiting to bid the couple goodnight. "Inspector."

Lestrade nodded back respectfully. "Mr. Holmes." Thank goodness for the elder Holmes's presence in all this: in the midst of a whirlwind of changes, _including Watson's own new wife and child_ , Mycroft had been a comfortingly solid rock of normality.

Mycroft continued on towards the door, nodding to another guest as he passed. "Mr Smith."

The Doctor's eyes widened, and he nodded slowly. There was nothing suspicious or distrustful about Mycroft's expression, but... "Mr. Holmes."

Mycroft paused, blinking as if in surprise, then shook his head, tutting. "Dear me, my wits have finally gone begging. For a moment, I mistook you for someone else."

"Sir?" the Doctor frowned uncertainly. He realised a second later that he had just called Mycroft "sir," but it seemed to fit him, and the Time Lord could say that of very few humans.

"Indeed," Mycroft continued lightly. "He had the great misfortune to lose the favour of a certain noble lady of my acquaintance, despite the invaluable services that he and his..." expression softening for a moment, "fellow traveler rendered to her." Whatever _had_ happened to 'Dame Rose Tyler?'

The Doctor faltered a moment at the mention of Rose—he'd been trying very hard throughout the day to _not_ think about her. "Oh." Well, at least it sounded like Mycroft had pretty much gotten the story—the Doctor had been wondering about that. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure they hadn't meant any harm."

Mycroft favoured him with a bland smile. "Quite so. Happily for that John Smith, there are others whose judgement and... discretion I am considerably more inclined to trust on the matter." Not to mention the report he had received this morning concerning a certain mysterious organisation, whose Director had apparently opted for early retirement...

The tiniest smile flickered across the Doctor's face, followed by solemnity. "Then, for his sake, I'm glad. Those others—" His voice softened as he looked over at Sherlock and Beth, at last able to allow themselves simply to be _happy_... _you finally got something right and they're going to be okay..._ "—must be very good friends, indeed."

A tender gleam came to Mycroft's eyes as he followed the Doctor's gaze. "To be sure." He looked back at the man, one eyebrow raised very slightly. "I only pray that they will never find their faith was misplaced." Touching his hat, "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith."

The Doctor smiled slightly—the warning was fair enough—and nodded back. "The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Holmes."

* * *

 **Sky:** Aaaahhhhh, we finally did it! Officially, that is! This was actually kind of a difficult chapter. Kudos to Ria for finding out exactly what an Anglican wedding ceremony would have been like! Also, yes, we know this essentially erases the story of SH22 as we know it, but _trust_ us when we say that going that route would have been far too heartbreaking. We're not kidding; we went there at one point, and it was... excruciatingly painful. After everything that Sherlock and Beth have been through by this point, they most certainly didn't deserve to face a separation like that, too.

 **Ria:** And never fear, dear reviewers, there will absolutely be a second season! As for a certain Captain... weeell, he may just show up when we least expect it, he's good at that! ;)


	6. Beautiful

**==Chapter 6==**

 **Beautiful**

" _I knew, you would do me good, in some way, at some time; I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you: their expression and smile did not strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing."_  
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

 _(Scene rating: S)_

Hand in hand, the newlyweds climbed the front steps to 221B. Holmes opened the door, then gathered Beth up in his arms, carrying her inside. "Welcome home, Mrs. Holmes." Just being able to openly call her that felt amazing.

Heart full to bursting, she smiled widely. "I love you," she murmured, and kissed him softly.

He kissed her back tenderly. "I love you, too." He set her down and closed the door behind them, then hung up their coats and hats, wishing they wouldn't be needing them again so soon. It would have been nice to have an uninterrupted honeymoon this time... but the stakeout at Charing Cross couldn't be postponed any further, and spending their wedding night in the TARDIS had seemed a little too much like tempting fate.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Oh my gosh, we don't have to pretend anymore. No more pretending, no more running and hiding…" It was a weird feeling—over the course of the reception, she was able to relax further and further and simply be _happy_. Her lightness of heart was almost making her light of head; she couldn't even remember when she'd felt this free of stress.

"Except perhaps on holiday," he grinned, turning and putting his arms around her, glad for the chance to finally hold her without everyone staring at them.

She giggled. "True." She tilted her head back, studying him—her lovely, wonderful husband with whom she could really stay for the rest of her life... He looked as happy as she felt, and she felt deliriously happy right now.

Just the way she was looking at him made his heart beat faster... "Well, _ma cherie_ ," he murmured, "what shall we do now?"

She grinned. "Weeell… why don't we get me out of this corset, first, and we'll go from there?"

He smiled back warmly, eyes dark with desire. "An excellent suggestion, dearest..." _Although you might want to find a_ slightly _better spot for undressing..._ He took her hands in his, raising them to his lips. "Where...?"

"The bedroom is good," she smiled, starting to flush beneath his gaze.

He squeezed her hands, then led her upstairs, resisting with difficulty the growing temptation to stop before they ever reached the landing.

On the way up, she gave a slight laugh as she remembered something. "You know," she said in a low, conspiratorial tone, "ever since that first night in France, I'd wanted to keep sleeping with you? I mean, exactly as we did." She grinned and squeezed his hand, recalling only too clearly how he had reacted to it at the time. "It was very warm and comfy."

"Well, to be honest, love..." he smiled foolishly, "I wanted that, too."

She smiled back. "I'd wondered, but I wasn't sure..." He'd certainly been sending all manner of mixed signals back then!

"Having you in my arms like that... it was extremely pleasant –" He stopped outside his... their bedroom door, drawing her close; "even if I couldn't admit it then."

Mischief glinted in her eyes, her smile turning arch—she couldn't resist; he'd handed her the opportunity on a silver platter... "Sweetheart, you kind of did."

He groaned and shook his head, blushing furiously. Thinking about that moment still made him want to sink through the floor!

She giggled and kissed his cheek in apology. "I'm sorry... but it did first make me wonder if you liked me more than you let on."

Holmes smiled at her kiss, murmuring, "Well, I do believe the answer was a definite 'yes'..." He caressed her cheek, then leaned in and kissed her softly. She wound her arm around his neck as she kissed him back, her other hand going to his head, fingers threading through his hair. Scalp tingling, he crooned in bliss, arm tightening around her waist... and he'd forgotten she was still in that confounded corset. He reached out blindly to open the door, which swung open at a touch.

"Love, please get me out of this," she breathed against his lips. The corset had been... bearable... at first, but it was starting to hurt and she desperately wanted it off.

"Oh yes, dearest..." His voice was hoarse as he drew her into the bedroom, closing the door behind them... then blinked as he got a good look at the room for the first time since this morning. "Good heavens..." The rogues' picture gallery was down off the walls entirely, and his old, narrow bed had been replaced by one wide enough for two. A newly laid fire blazed in the hearth, the room deliciously warm.

Beth's eyes were wide. "Oh my gosh!" The room looked completely different and so much for the better—it looked like _home_ now, comfortable and inviting.

Holmes laughed – he'd suspected Watson was up to something besides the normal duties of best man. "A most timely wedding present, wouldn't you say, love?"

"It's perfect!" she laughed. "I just hope the new mattress is bouncy."

He chuckled and turned her around, starting to undo the buttons on the back of her dress. "That," he murmured in her ear as he worked, "sounds most promising..."

She shivered—his talking in her ear was one of those things that she'd long since filed under _Things Sherlock Does That Turn Me On Immediately_. "Incorrigible..."

Concentration was becoming more and more difficult as the back of her dress gaped wider, but he managed to respond, "Oh, indeed..." Finished with the buttons, he slipped the dress carefully off her shoulders, letting it pool on the floor; kissed the nape of her neck softly, moving slowly towards her ear, murmuring teasingly between kisses, "But what... exactly... do you intend... to do... about that?"

She arched her neck beneath his mouth, increasingly breathless. "Probably… encourage it..."

He hummed appreciatively, thrilling at her quickening breaths. "An excellent notion..." He reluctantly abandoned her neck in favour of the corset, fingers quivering, willing them to cooperate as he loosened the laces, slowly and carefully. His fingertips tingled whenever they brushed her, he could feel the warmth of her skin through her undershift...

She hummed softly at his touch and at the sensation of being freed one bit at a time. "That feels so good..."

He had to brace his legs, her pleasure-filled voice rapidly turning his knees to water. "Remember to breathe lightly..." he murmured, rather breathless himself.

She nodded. "I am…" She reached back to squeeze his hand gently.

He caressed her fingers, done with the laces, then bent and softly kissed her shoulder. Oh, how he wanted her...

She shivered again, moaning softly. "Love..." It was only then that she realised they hadn't made love _together_ , _normally_ , since before the showdown at Torchwood, and she was burning for his touch. "Please..."

Heart pounding at the growing passion in her voice, he gently raised her arms and lifted the loosened corset off over her head, followed by her shift.

She breathed a careful sigh of relief, her body relaxing after several hours in the darn thing. "Thank you." She turned to face him, pupils dilated, and pulled off his suit coat. She paused then, smiling at the sight of him, in shirtsleeves but in best dress shirtsleeves, hair slightly mussed, eyes large and luminous and dark... elegant and intoxicating. "You look _amazing_ ," she murmured huskily.

Holmes blushed, drinking in the sight of his wife, flushed and breathless, eyes aglow with desire... "So do you, love," he breathed, and wrapped his arms around her again, stroking his fingertips up and down her bare back, trying to resist the strong temptation to simply sweep her off her feet that moment and carry her to bed.

Shivering, she arched her back and leaned down, nuzzling his neck and starting on unbuttoning his waistcoat.

 _Ohh..._ He crooned deep in his throat, neck arching, eyes half closed. "Oh, Beth..."

She moaned softly at his reaction, kissing his throat as she unbuttoned his waistcoat. "I love you," she murmured in-between kisses. "I love you... I love you..."

A whimper escaped him at the touch of her lips, senses aflame at the sound of her. "I love _you_..." he answered hoarsely, panting for breath. "Oh, Elizabeth, what you do to me...!"

She smiled as she pulled off the waistcoat and started on his shirt. "What do I do to you, love?"

He kissed her shoulder again, slowly trailing his lips towards her neck. "You've bewitched me, _cherie_ ," he whispered against her skin. "Merely thinking about you is enough... to rob me of breath... drive me mad with desire..." Huskily, "And dearest, my every thought is of you..."

She moaned softly, blood afire but also humbled by the depth of emotion in his voice. "Oh, Sherlock..." She fumbled with the buttons, finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

He smiled mischievously as he reached her neck, and gently grazed her skin with his teeth. She gasped and shuddered, head tipping back, gripping his shirt reflexively as she moaned his name.

"Beth..." He couldn't resist continuing up her neck, kisses growing deeper, hands roaming her back.

She whimpered and clutched his sides, her back arching, hips rolling. "Sherlock... please..." She wasn't even sure what she was asking for, to let her finish or for him to continue on...

He lifted his head, hands slowing, and tried to calm his breathing. "Beth?" Did she need him to stop?

Averting her gaze in embarrassment, she managed to blush past her flushed skin, then undid the last couple of buttons and pulled his shirt off. She nuzzled his neck and murmured, "Don't stop..."

Holmes let the shirt fall, a soft gasp escaping as she nuzzled him, holding himself back with difficulty. "One moment, _cherie_." He turned her, reached up and drew out the pins from her hair, letting it tumble down to her shoulders. It was so soft and silky, he couldn't resist combing his fingers through it; she tilted her head back, closing her eyes and humming in bliss. He kissed her hair, inhaling her scent, his hands drifting to her shoulders and caressing down her arms.

Shivering at his touch, she turned and nuzzled his neck again, stroking his sides. " _Sherlock_ ," she murmured reverently. Her lover, her soulmate, her husband in law now as well as in spirit...

"I love you, Beth..." He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she rose eagerly to meet him as he kissed her, hands tightening on his sides. He ran his tongue softly along her lower lip, his hands drifting down further and halting at the waistband of her underwear, fingertips questing inside tentatively.

She moaned into his mouth, hips shifting at his touch. She broke off the kiss just long enough to gasp against his lips, "Oh yes, love, please!" It was something she was determined not to let Moran take from her... and it helped that everything about Sherlock was different, loving and gentle even in the midst of passion...

Holmes slipped his hands inside her underwear, caressing and kneading her flesh; kissed her deeply, their tongues stroking, the blood thundering in his ears at Beth's wanton moan, her hunger audibly matching his own. Her fingers were digging into his back, legs trembling... He withdrew his hands and gathered her up in his arms. "Bed, _cherie_?" he murmured.

She whimpered but sighed in relief as he lifted her, winding her arms around his neck. "Yes, love, please..." He carried her to the bed and laid her down, keeping his arms around her as he kissed her passionately. She returned the kiss and the passion—she was starting to think that she might spontaneously combust if they teased each other much longer. His hand suddenly trailing slowly up her thigh from her knee to her underwear, and then caressing her hip through the cloth, sent her hips twitching, unable to keep still. She scraped her nails encouragingly up and down his back, moaning pleadingly into his mouth. She needed him, she needed him _desperately_...

Holmes gasped at the touch of her nails, shivering, arm tightening around her shoulders. He started slipping her underwear off, hands trembling, he would never get used to her wanting him, _needing_ him like this...

Beth arched in his hold, struggling and failing to keep still, hips lifting. She felt a hand ghost up from her hip to her waist, and it wasn't Sherlock's... Unseen by him, she squeezed her eyes shut. _Not now, not tonight. You will NOT take this from me_. She opened her eyes and lowered her hands to Sherlock's belt, unbuckling it and unbuttoning his trousers.

His hips pressed forward involuntarily as she freed him, groaning, and hastened to finish undressing her, his self-control all but gone.

Thrilling at his reaction, she pushed his trousers down and caressed his hips; his answering moan sent another shiver of need through her. "Sherlock, please...! Need you..."

He wasted no time in discarding the last of his clothing and joining her; gathered her into his arms again, hands roaming her back as she pressed herself against him, legs twining. He recaptured her mouth, drinking in her lustful moans, and murmured against her lips, "Which way, dearest?"

Their normal position was her below and him above, and she was _not_ going to let memories take that from them. _You're thinking about it too much. I know_. She managed a cheeky smile to reassure him and murmured, "I'm good right here."

Holmes smiled back in relief, nuzzling her; he had been concerned that his being above her this soon might make her feel uncomfortable. He moved to lie fully atop her and nudged his knee between her legs, spreading them apart. There was no need to look to know that she was completely ready for him, he could tell how wet she was as he positioned himself, the deliciously musky scent of her womanhood turning his blood to fire. He kissed her passionately, then slowly pressed forward, groaning as her sweet warmth surrounded him, oh God, she felt _wonderful_...

She moaned into his mouth, shuddering and twisting around him— _so good, so good, so good_... Clutching his shoulders to steady herself, she kissed him back fiercely as she began to move against him. _I love you I love you I love you_...

 _Mon amour..._ His thoughts were beginning to dissolve, swiftly and willingly losing himself in his beloved, worshipping her body with his. After everything they had been through, this moment, this joining, was indescribably precious to both of them, a memory he intended to never let fade...

* * *

Floating in a blissful haze, Beth wrapped an arm around her husband as they settled together beneath the covers, weary and content. Humming a soft tune, she started stroking his hair with her free hand, so soft and dark and silky... He moved his head under her hand, humming blissfully, looking every inch of the nickname she'd given him. "Oh, Kitty," she murmured fondly, smiling.

Holmes smiled back, purring softly, though without any real suggestion behind it, he was completely spent. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"

"Mm-hmm… Tell me again…?"

Oh, how to find the words for what he felt... _Well, maybe... you could borrow them from someone else? Beth won't mind..._ He stroked her cheek, gazing at her tenderly, and murmured, " _I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,_

 _or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.  
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,  
in secret, between the shadow and the soul._

 _I love you as the plant that never blooms_  
 _but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;_  
 _thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,_  
 _risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body._

 _I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where._  
 _I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;_  
 _so I love you because I know no other way_

 _than this: where I does not exist, nor you,_  
 _so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,_  
 _so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep_."

She was crying silently well before he finished, not having expected that. _That is so... so sweet..._ _He's so sweet... he's so different now_... Given their past, it was still almost a little difficult to believe that he loved her as intensely as she loved him. There was certainly ample proof now, but it... it didn't make _sense_ , looking back... "Love," she said after a few seconds, "what changed your mind? At the lake? I thought I was fighting a losing battle—" just as she thought she had from the very beginning—"and then suddenly, you just… _changed_ …" _From mixed signals to head-over-heels_ …

The memory made his cheeks flame. "I was being a dreadful ass, wasn't I?" He reached up and gently brushed her tears away. "Any excuse to keep from admitting just how much I wanted you..." So much that he could scarcely breathe...

Her eyelids fluttered at his touch. "What made you change your mind?"

"When you stopped my mouth with that next kiss." Smiling sheepishly, "I realised then that there really was no getting away from you." _And you were forced to admit that you didn't want to, either._

She ducked her head, unable to help giggling softly. "Ohhh, what am I going to _do_ with you?" she groaned.

He kissed the top of her head, smile turning to a grin. "I look forward to finding out." Her schemes had all turned out to be extremely pleasant so far...

She looked up, grinning herself. "Oh my gosh, you are horrible!" He merely gave her a look of affronted innocence, which was kind of ruined by his eyes twinkling impishly. _Impossible man_... She sighed. "C'mere, you..." She pressed gently at the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

Holmes returned the kiss warmly, holding her close. _Dearest Beth..._ She made him feel so... so _safe_ , so hopeful. Thank God for the Doctor... He'd been contented enough with his life before the TARDIS, but a future without his beloved would have been unbearable.

She finally broke off the kiss with a yawn, suddenly reminded that it had been a long day—not to mention a long week!—and that she was actually very tired. Giving him one last soft kiss, she murmured, "Goodnight, honey..."

He stroked her hair as she drifted off, not quite tired enough himself yet, and it had been far too long since he'd last had the chance to watch her sleeping. "Good night, love."

* * *

 **A/N:** And that was more or less the rest of the original wedding night scene. =) They're so precious... Sorry about the delay, too—real life got in the way for both of us. Next up, the close of the Bruce-Partington case!


	7. Unfinished Business

**==Chapter 7==**

 **Unfinished Business**

 _He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking._

– Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

Beth roused slowly, stretching lazily, then opened her eyes. Her arm was draped over Sherlock, who, in turn, had an arm wrapped around her. He looked _so_ contented and peaceful... _so beautiful_... Smiling, she stroked his hair slowly, gently. _I can actually spend the rest of my life with him_...

He started to stir, eyelids fluttering, and she leaned up to kiss his forehead softly. He smiled, humming, and his eyes blinked open slowly. His drowsy smile was just about the most adorable thing she had ever seen.

Still stroking his hair, she whispered, "Morning, sweetie."

"Good morning, dearest..." How he loved waking up to this, his wife's shining smile beside him every morning... Knowing that he had a lifetime of that to look forward to simply took his breath away.

Her vision blurred suddenly—the sheer adoration in his eyes was incredible... "I love you..." She kissed him softly, thrilling at the _perfectness_ of it: the two of them, married, in their own room, in their own flat, with Moriarty gone and the rest of Reality safe.

"I love you, too." He kissed her back tenderly, then groaned softly as he remembered: the stakeout at the hotel was this morning. What idiot had scheduled that for today? _You did, remember?_

She sighed—the tenor of that groan was that Reality was going to have intrude upon them soon. She pulled back and brushed her hair away from her face. "What time do you have to go?"

He hummed thoughtfully, stretching. "The stakeout is set for noon, but Mycroft is expecting us at eleven. Oberstein, being the seasoned operative that he is, will most likely arrive and establish his presence in the hotel well in advance." It was certainly what he would have done.

She nodded slowly. "...what will happen to Oberstein, after he's arrested?" The man had, after all, killed a British citizen, an employee of the government, and she recalled Oberstein's fate in the story as being a long stint in prison. _Call me crazy, but I don't like the thought of that_...

He heard the faint note of concern in her voice, brow furrowing. "Well, I highly doubt he'll remain behind bars for long – he's too valuable an agent." Not to sound immodest, but Oberstein probably _would_ have gotten away clean if Holmes hadn't been consulted.

"So... an agent exchange?"

"Most likely, yes." Holmes sighed. "Espionage is a high-risk game, but it _is_ a game – to men like Oberstein, there's nothing personal about it, despite all the trouble this incident has caused... and Mycroft understands that even better than I."

She couldn't help feeling relieved. "Right. All right, okay."

He caressed her cheek, giving her an innocent smile. "And I suppose, since Time's been reset, there's no real danger of him recognising you."

She frowned slightly—recognising her? "No, not really..." Her eyes widened in realisation: he wanted her to go with him?!

He grinned at her reaction, teasing, "Unless you'd rather stay home – after all, you have wrapped up the case once yourself!"

She smacked his shoulder lightly. "Are you kidding me? No way I'm missing out on this if you'll let me go! Can Sally come, too?"

"By all means, love," he chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of excluding you – although you two will need to watch from the dining room. Best not to have too large a party."

"No problem—we've been wanting to have a girls' lunch out for a long time now." They'd daydreamed, sometimes, in Frozen Time, about things they'd do together if they could ever get the chance: lunches, movies, shopping... showing each other the places they'd grown up in... Things that normal girls would do for fun. _And it's about to become a reality!_

He nodded, smile turning rueful. "And I am going to have a most difficult time keeping from constantly looking in your direction." _Good grief... you do realise that stealing glances at beautiful women is actually perfectly_ normal _behaviour?_

Beth's mouth formed an 'o'. "Then again... maybe this isn't such a good idea..." She didn't want to be a distraction!

Holmes shook his head firmly. "We'll have to grow accustomed to such conditions at some point, love. We might as well begin as we mean to go on." He certainly wouldn't mind her being involved in his future cases – the unpublished ones, of course!

"I suppose so." Humming in thought, she started to stroke his hair again. "We'll probably still have a fair chunk of the day free, too..."

He leaned into her touch, eyes half closing. "Indeed... once we've searched Oberstein's lodgings..." _Mm, there's a thought..._ "I don't suppose you have any idea where he'd hide those papers?"

She blinked. _He's asking me for information?_ "Oh, um... yeees?"

"Beth, I shouldn't think it would make any significant difference to the case at this point – or to Reality – but if you would rather not..."

Call her paranoid, but as much as she wanted to alter future cases, she didn't want to mess with the current one. _Too soon,_ she thought wryly. "Wayeeeeeell... mm, you might want to pay special attention to his travel chest?"

He nodded gratefully. "And then the rest of the day to ourselves," he murmured, drawing her head down to his for another kiss.

She returned the kiss and said, "That sounds lovely." _Oh! Might this afternoon be a good time to try to make that one idea of yours a reality? Oh boy, maybe_... "And I just might have an idea for that..."

Holmes' pulse quickened, arching an eyebrow – he knew _that_ look...

She grinned and kissed his cheek. "Oh, no. If it happens, it'll be a surprise."

He returned the kiss, murmuring, "Something to look forward to, then." _Do_ try _not to speculate before getting home, that could be... awkward._

She nodded happily. "Mm- _hmm_."

* * *

Eleven o'clock saw Watson and the Holmes brothers sitting in the lobby of the Charing Cross Hotel, Mycroft ostensibly engrossed in that morning's _Times_. "Well, gentlemen, you look well today," he remarked lightly, not looking up from the paper. "In fact, I should say that married life quite suits you, Sherlock." His brother had already visibly regained some of the weight he'd lost during his travels, thanks to the new Mrs. Holmes as much as to their landlady's talents, no doubt.

Holmes sighed – Watson had been ribbing him mercilessly since setting out this morning. He didn't have to force a smile, however, allowing himself a quick glance over to where Beth sat with Sally in the dining room, the girls' table affording them an excellent view of the lobby and front entrance. "It does indeed, Mycroft, thank you."

Mycroft shook his head, smiling faintly. "And you, Doctor. Your wounds, in particular, do not seem to be troubling you, despite the time of year." Heaven only knew which point in the future the young ladies had come from, he probably never would... but if Katherine was not the genuine offspring of Doctor _and_ Mrs. Watson, Mycroft would eat his newspaper – Watson and Sherlock had certainly been away long enough for that.

Watson tensed for a split second— _come now, you've been expecting a comment like that sooner_ —then relaxed, smiling. "It's kind of you to notice, Mycroft." He grinned with a sudden idea. "What do you think, Holmes, shall we find a wife for him next?"

Holmes couldn't quite suppress a snort, then began looking thoughtful.

Mycroft lowered his paper sharply. "Sherlock, don't you dare!"

Holmes gave him a look of affronted innocence, then dropped it with a grin. "I'm afraid we're doomed before we start, Watson, Mycroft's already married to his work. But this must be the third time in as many days that you've deserted your post, brother mine – I trust the Empire is not on the brink of falling into ruin?"

Mycroft gave his brother a Look. " _I_ trust that Whitehall is able to survive temporarily without me." Thoughtfully, "Although I should not mind having a nephew to whom I can pass the reins someday..."

Watson chuckled at the younger Holmes's look of horror at the thought of any child of his following in Mycroft's footsteps. "Oh, come now, Mycroft—if you really want a protégé, surely you must have a promising underling or two you could take under your wing?"

Mycroft sighed. "Doctor, were that the case, you and my brother would be the first to know of it, I assure you."

"And for the record," Holmes interjected, sounding more defensive than he'd intended, "none of the Irregulars have ever indicated the slightest interest in politics."

Watson snickered. "Aside from throwing rotten fruit at passing dignitaries, perhaps..." He wouldn't have ever approved of the act itself, but it _had_ been amusing the one time that Wiggins' younger brother and a couple of the other lads had pelted the carriage of one of the members of the House of Lords—one who had treated Holmes rather contemptibly during a case.

Mycroft sighed again, aware that he was fighting a losing battle. "I _do_ wish you would instill them with a bit more respect for the authorities."

Holmes shrugged. "And how would you suggest I encourage values which I myself barely possess?" Smiling with quiet pride, "The boys are largely independent of thought, I am glad to say, and I intend to see that they remain so."

Mycroft directed a speaking look at the ceiling. "Working for the government does not necessitate a lack of independent thought, Sherlock. Your boys are undoubtedly all good young men, but they want a little refining."

Holmes arched a challlenging eyebrow. "And you and I undoubtedly have vastly differing opinions as to how that ought to be achieved." _Time's not Frozen any more, old chap – the boys are all going to get older now, like it or not._

"Well, Mycroft does have a point, Holmes," said Watson. "It is time the elder boys were thinking about their future careers—I believe there are at least two of them who would do well in the sciences, if not medicine specifically."

Holmes nodded thoughtfully, gaze returning to Beth for a brief moment and moving on with difficulty. It did stand to reason that, after surviving this latest adventure, navigating the perils of public school would be considerably less of a challenge.

Watson smiled innocently. "And apparently young Kelly has taken to hanging around the Yard quite a bit recently..." A fine officer of the law Kelly would make, too.

Holmes looked back at Watson with a milder look of mock horror. "Good Lord..." Watson raised a mischievous eyebrow, and the two shared a silent chuckle.

Mycroft smiled in fond exasperation, a smile that turned pensive as his gaze fell on Beth, wondering for the hundredth time just how this admittedly wonderful slip of a girl had managed to so thoroughly bewitch – much less _domesticate_ – his little brother...

* * *

Beth could not have felt more delighted as she took in the opulent surroundings. Getting into a corset was definitely worth all _this_ : Victorian elegance at its finest. She turned back to Sally and said with a straight face, "I have come to a very important conclusion."

"Oh?" Sally's dignified response was belied by the gleam of delight in her own eyes. "And what might that be?"

Beth really had to fight down a smile as she replied, "I like Victorian restaurants very much."

Sally pressed her lips together to hold back the grin that threatened to spread – she was determined to learn to keep the fangirling hidden and fit in with her surroundings until she found her feet. "The sentiment, my dear Mrs. Holmes, is entirely mutual." She sighed, letting the mask slide a fraction. "God, this feels so unreal... I keep waiting for someone to walk on and say 'Cut!'"

"Mm, absolutely..." It could be Jeremy Brett walking into the foyer, or it could be a good hundred other actors doing the same, at any moment now. "What feels unreal for me," Beth said ruefully, "is being out in the open like this, not having to watch my back." It would take a very, very long time to overcome the urge to look over her shoulder every five seconds, just one more gift to thank Moriarty and Moran for. "...and having _you_ here with me, Mama Watson." She winked at her friend, thrilled to have her out in public again like this.

Sally's smile widened, blushing. "I'm just amazed we were invited! Okay, a setting like this is good cover, but still..." She felt incredibly honoured, Sherlock trusting the two of them not to stand out and give the game away at such a crucial moment.

Beth grinned back. "I know, right?" Her eyes widened as she caught sight of a familiar figure. _"Now go—and I will pray we do not meet again."_ He was unremarkable in appearance, which he had also altered for this occasion, but she couldn't mistake him. "There he is," she whispered, "he just walked in!"

* * *

Mycroft's eyes continued roaming the premises. "Well, Sherlock, if you should ever like to see the Yard truly improve, you could not do better than to have the boys you've trained yourself enter that field in an official capacity."

His brother sighed. "Yes, yes, I am aware..." Then Holmes at last saw Oberstein walking through the lobby, a folded newspaper tucked under his left arm, looking entirely in keeping with his surroundings. "...that a certain highly sought-after individual has just graced us with his presence." Oberstein continued serenely on down the corridor towards the smoking room, removing his hat and gloves.

Watson pricked up his ears and glanced as casually as he could over at the new arrival and away again. "So that's whom we have to thank for all this commotion," he murmured dryly. "I'd envisioned him taller, for some reason..."

Mycroft snorted quietly. "My brother is one of the few tall men I know able to go unnoticed under such circumstances." Most interesting... Elizabeth's eyes had widened at the sight of the German agent, murmuring to the new Mrs. Watson in warning. Now, how could she have known what Oberstein looked like? Even Sherlock had only seen the dossier photograph this morning...

A few moments after Oberstein had entered, Geoffrey Lestrade stepped into the agent's path. "Just a moment, Herr Oberstein," said the Inspector. "I am afraid I have to detain you and take you down to New Scotland Yard for questioning."

Oberstein blinked, then answered calmly in impeccable English, complete with higher middle-class accent, "I'm terribly sorry, officer, but you seem to be misinformed. My name is Charles Brackenstall." He drew a visiting card out of his glove, smiling, and gave it to Lestrade. "Is there some way I can assist you?"

Lestrade raised an eyebrow—the man had a real nerve the Chief Inspector himself would have admired, not to mention a skill at impersonation that Sherlock Holmes would applaud. "Yes, there is. And I am afraid that I still need to take you down to New Scotland Yard under suspicion of theft from the British Government and question you. If you have nothing to do with this affair, well, then... you have nothing to fear, do you?"

Oberstein's eyebrows had lifted at the charge, drawing himself up with a look of offended outrage, only slightly mollified by the added proviso. "Well," he sniffed, "I suppose in my duty as a law-abiding citizen, I can spare you a few minutes." Nodding haughtily, "After you, officer."

Watson had to hide a smile as he watched. "Impressive," he murmured. "The man's acting talents could rival yours, Holmes!"

Holmes glanced sideways at Watson in annoyance; nevertheless, if he were honest with himself, he was beginning to appreciate how the agent had earned Beth's respect in Paris.

Lestrade pursed his lips and nodded to his constables, who came up to flank Oberstein. "Thank you very much," he said dryly. Oberstein couldn't know it yet, but his game was definitely up, and Lestrade couldn't wait to finally put an end to this business.

Mycroft's forehead creased faintly – Elizabeth's expression as her eyes followed Oberstein was... concerned? _They've met._ The thought rang with certainty as Oberstein followed the Inspector out, the agent still maintaining his façade of outraged innocence; somewhere, somehow, those two must have encountered each other before...

Holmes glanced over his shoulder to where Colonel Walter was being escorted from the smoking room by two plainclothes constables. A pity Lestrade had chosen at the last minute to close the trap before the final incriminating transaction had even taken place, but one couldn't have everything. He nodded at the officers, then turned back to Mycroft and Watson. "Well, gentlemen, shall we also adjourn to the Yard?"

Watson nodded, smiling. "By all means, Holmes." It was going to be a very welcome relief to have this case wrapped up at last.

* * *

" _I shall be very surprised if that does not fetch our man."_

 _And it did! It is a matter of history—that secret history of a nation which is often so much more intimate and interesting than its public chronicles—that Oberstein, eager to complete the coup of his lifetime, came to the lure and was safely engulfed for fifteen years in a British prison. In his trunk were found the invaluable Bruce-Partington plans, which he had put up for auction in all the naval centres of Europe. Colonel Walter died in prison towards the end of the second year of his sentence. As to Holmes, he returned refreshed to his monograph upon the Polyphonic Motets of Lassus, which has since been printed for private circulation, and is said by experts to be the last word upon the subject._

The Doctor snorted, grinning to himself as he put the _Strand_ issue back on the library shelf. Watson's artistic licence knew no bounds – the Time Lord doubted very much that writing monographs was what a newly-married Sherlock would _really_ be doing...

* * *

 **Ria:** Squee, we did it, the case is solved! *happy dance* Any readers interested in how the newlyweds will be keeping themselves entertained, we may just post a bonus scene or two on tumblr later... Either way, still going to be a while before we post the respective epilogues, so make yourselves comfortable. Stay tuned for chapter 8, and a very special date! =)


	8. Heartstrings

**==Chapter 8==**

 **Heartstrings**

 _Because with the right person, sometimes kissing feels like healing._

– Lisa McMann, Gone

It was well into the afternoon before Sherlock and John finally returned to Baker Street from Caulfield Gardens. Beth did have a surprise waiting for her husband, which was how they ended up nestled together in bed half an hour later. She had her arm wrapped around him and was stroking his hair when a thought occurred to her. "Do you know... when you speak French like you were just doing..." In the midst of passion, and Beth loved every second of it—"I can't understand it?" For nine to ten months, she had understood every language she'd come across, but Sherlock's French... she actually _heard_ it as French, and not English. Not that she was complaining—it was incredibly attractive—but she couldn't understand what he was saying.

"Really? Hm, that is curious..."

"I understood you in France… I think. You were speaking in French then, right? Or weren't you?"

"Oh yes – French is the only language I can actually hear now, apart from English." The TARDIS translation was most useful, but it had come at a price. "I suspect because it's practically my native language."

She smiled and nuzzled him gently. "I'm not sure why I can understand you sometimes but not others..."

He nuzzled her back. "Shall I translate, then?" _That's if either of you can remember what you said in the, ahem, heat of the moment..._ When she nodded shyly, he continued, "Well, 'cherie' means 'dear', but you probably already knew that."

She smiled and nodded. "Mm-hmm... 'Femme'... I'm guessing that it's like the Spanish 'mujer'... literally 'woman' but also means 'wife'?" Mama and Daddy had always said that French and Spanish were similar enough that if you knew the one, you could pick up bits from the other.

Holmes raised an impressed eyebrow. " _Exactement, cherie_!"

Grinning, she shook her head and stroked his cheek. "So... you don't remember the rest?"

"Mm... 'ma reine' is 'my queen'..." _Oh, yes..._ "And the last you ought to recognise: 'mon soleil'..."

Eyes wide at the idea of being called 'queen,' Beth thought about it. "...ah... 'sol,' sun..." _Sunshine_. She ducked her head and shook it again, then kissed him. "You are just something else, you know that?"

He returned the kiss tenderly, smiling even as he blushed at the compliment. Whatever kindled his beloved's desires, he was more than happy to oblige...

Grinning, she murmured, "And you're so cute when you blush..."

He groaned, blush deepening. "That word ought to be outlawed!"

She laughed. "Hate to break it to you, babe, but it's one of the reasons I love you so much." She kissed him again, adding teasingly, "Cute kitty."

He grinned back in spite of himself and caressed her cheek, gazing at her adoringly. "My beautiful Elizabeth..."

She hummed, her smile turning thoughtful. "I might even believe that someday." As often as he said it, like she was the most important thing in the world...

"And I shall do all I can to help you, dear heart," he answered solemnly. "You are incredible... and it pains me greatly to see you doubting yourself."

She winced and stroked his cheek soothingly. "Sherlock, I'm just… not entirely used to praise. Living with Sally and George and Nikola and the boys was a slightly more nurturing environment than what I'm used to, but still… I mean, me and my siblings—that's constant war." War for their parents' attention... and apparently war for respect—not one of her brothers aside from Geoff ever treated her like she was an actual human being. "And school… well, you kind of saw what would happen there. I was the smart kid, the one who actually studied and enjoyed it and got the answers right and chatted with the teachers after class. And then being one or two years ahead of most other students..." The circumstances had been against her from the start, as she'd eventually learned.

The smart kid... _Biting his lip to keep from crying as he struggled to raise himself, surrounded by chanting, jeering schoolboys..._ Holmes nodded stiffly, trying to bring himself back to the present, there was no need for distant memories to spoil such a pleasant moment... _Not nearly as distant as you'd like, though, are they? Shut up._ "Standing out from the crowd is never easy..."

She could sense a shadow falling over his mood, and it didn't take much to guess his past didn't hold bright memories in that regard, either. "What's wrong, love?"

He shook his head. _I can't, she doesn't need this,_ _ **I**_ _don't need this, not now..._ "It's no great matter, love, just that... well, my own school days hold few pleasant memories for me, either."

Heart aching at the pain in his eyes, she kissed his forehead soothingly and said gently, "If you need to talk..."

 _There now, Master Holmes, do try to compose yourself..._ _ **No**_ _, leave me alone!_ He drew a shuddering breath, whispering, "I... I... don't know..."

Looking at him in concern now, Beth stroked his face with the backs of her fingers. She was burning with curiosity as well as concern—she had _always_ wanted to know more about Sherlock's past—but she didn't want to hurt him any more than he already was by prying. _And, on the other hand, you know what it feels like to bottle up your pain_. _Yeah, I do_... "Sherlock… even before we were married, you've been helping me deal with bad memories." She kissed his forehead again. "Love, let me do the same for you..."

He closed his eyes at her kiss, her loving touch as comforting as ever, giving him the courage to whisper, "Beth, those few good memories I thought had... they were all... just a lie..."

Frowning, she nuzzled him, her free hand moving to rub his back soothingly. "What do you mean, sweetheart?"

"When... when Moriarty emerged from the Rift... it was 1869..."

Beth froze. _"What is it your husband is fond of saying? 'To_ _the_ _logician_ _all things should be seen exactly as they are.' Did he ever tell you who taught him that?"_ ...oh, God, no... And she still didn't know exactly how old Sherlock was, but it was only too easy to do the math. "Oh, Sherlock..."

He hid his face in her shoulder, shuddering. "I was a child, Beth, how could I know...? And he... Professor Newman..." Dear God, the irony of it! "He was the only one of my teachers who... seemed to think I was... worth anything... and now I know _why_..."

She kissed his hair, still rubbing his back, her own tears falling silently. _I can't even imagine... And how could even Moriarty... that's beyond cruel!_ "My poor love..."

"I threw away my present, my future..." he whispered wretchedly, "and Moriarty ensured I couldn't even remember my past without looking for him in every shadow..."

She shuddered and held him tightly. _My poor, poor love_... "But there's more to your past than your life at school, sweetheart. What about Mycroft?"

It was a relief to remember that yes, there had been a time when he most certainly did _not_ have the Professor in his life, although not much of one – if only his relationship with his own father had been anything like what he believed he'd had with his mentor. As for Mycroft... "I believe I was rather a shock to his system." He sighed. "It didn't help that there was seven years difference between us... and I had far more energy than he did, even then." Smiling faintly, "Although... we did have our odd moments of accord –" His lips twitched; "as Mycroft once put it: 'two clocks moving at different speeds will still show the same time occasionally.'"

She kissed his hair again. "I think he's happier to have a brother, honey," she murmured. The memory of Mycroft in Frozen Time, the look on his face... would always break her heart when she thought of it. He had been missing something incredibly precious, and he had known.

"As am I. We grew apart somewhat once he left to attend school – not terribly surprising, I suppose..." Holmes's smile turned wistful. "But after everything that's happened..." He shook his head. "And there is still so much about that which I simply cannot tell him, for all our sakes." He'd never imagined their roles would be reversed in such a fashion.

She hummed in agreement. "What _will_ you tell him?"

"I honestly don't know – heaven only knows how much he's deduced already without my telling him!"

She winced. "I can't imagine there's nothing for him to pick up on..." Sherlock and John were visibly older than they'd been when she'd first met them, and she was sure that she and Sally didn't exactly pass muster as girls of the nineteenth century.

"Mm." He kissed her, adding innocently, "Such as all this recent exertion..." Very enjoyable exertion, too.

She rolled her eyes and kissed him back. "Incorrigible," she murmured.

"Dearest," he murmured back after a few moments, "what of your family? I don't recall you ever speaking of them." He could have asked her about that months ago, if he hadn't been so self-absorbed.

She blinked. "Oh." Not that she'd _wanted_ to speak of them, not for a long time—remembering had hurt, and not only because she missed them... "Well… I'm from a big family, seven kids… oldest girl… five brothers..."

Holmes smiled. "Well, that certainly explains a few things... particularly your success in leading the Irregulars."

She snorted lightly. "My success in surviving them, maybe... I have a half-brother, Geoff—he's the oldest; his mom died when he was little. Eight years older than me... and he really takes after Daddy; he's just in the military, instead." She sighed. "Then there's Brian, Tim, Marjorie, Jason, and Cameron in descending order, three years apart—Cameron is two, and he's the only one of the lot who _isn't_ the bane of my existence." Mama really didn't give her enough credit for _not_ punching Brian and Tim sometimes...

He nuzzled her, smile turning sympathetic as he heard everything she wasn't saying. "Siblings..."

She hummed, nodding. "Definitely never a dull moment—I don't think I've ever been bored in my life." She sighed. "I could do with experiencing it just for once, let me tell you… "

"And you planned to become a police officer?" he teased.

She shrugged. "Well, what else was I going to do with myself?" _All my life I've wanted to be the next Inspector Lestrade and now... I don't know..._

Holmes gave a satisfied chuckle. "Scotland Yard would never have known what hit it!"

She blushed a little and shook her head. _You should talk with him about your personal future here_. _I'm not ready yet; I am so very not ready yet_. "So… what are _we_ going to do with ourselves for the rest of the day?"

He smiled mysteriously and rolled onto his back, taking her with him **,** making her giggle. "Well... I was wondering if you'd like to go out for dinner tonight."

Her eyes sparkled. "Mm, I would love that." Maybe third time would be the charm, finally.

"I thought perhaps Simpson's?" He wasn't planning to take her back to Goldini's again for a long time, if ever.

Her eyes went wide. "Oh my gosh! Yes, absolutely!" She had _always_ wanted to go to Simpson's on the Strand.

"Would you like to invite the Watsons as well, or shall it be just the two of us?"

She bit her lip. As much as she would love to share the experience with Sally... "I'm not sure... Maybe just the two of us? I mean, we haven't even had one proper dinner alone yet..." It would be nice to have just one meal out, alone, without it going up in smoke.

"All right." Holmes sat up reluctantly to check his watch. "Good Lord, half past four already." He lay back down, drawing Beth close. "We'd best be stirring soon, I suppose..."

She giggled softly. "Yeah, you look so ready to do that." Not that she felt ready, herself; resting in his arms was one of those things she was never going to tire of doing.

He chuckled quietly, nuzzling her. "Mm, well..." His eyelids were becoming heavy again. "A little more sleep first wouldn't go amiss..."

She smiled, his sleepy look making her feel sleepy as well. "Guess not..." She nuzzled him back and nestled further into his hold, enjoying the moment before she fell asleep with him.

* * *

Early in the evening, Beth and Sally went searching through the TARDIS wardrobe for an evening gown for Beth, one nice enough for dining out. Their quest yielded a choice between two positively gorgeous dresses, one midnight blue and the other scarlet. Beth eventually settled on the red—she hadn't worn that color since her meeting with Oberstein in Paris, and she had missed it. Sally helped her with her hair, and then deemed her ready.

They stepped out of the TARDIS arm-in-arm, Beth starry-eyed and practically bouncing. "I can't believe _I'm actually going to Simpson's_!"

"Tone it down, honey," Sally laughed. "You're about to step out into serious Victoriana!"

They had to get past Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen first, the landlady oohing and aahing over Beth's gown and wishing her a lovely evening. Sherlock and John were waiting beyond in the downstairs hall, and Sally had to admit that Sherlock cleaned up almost as well as her husband, resplendent in traditional top hat, white tie and tailcoat.

Both men looked up as the ladies entered, and Watson was just as stunned by Beth's appearance as Holmes was. She had always been pretty, of course, but tonight...! Then Watson glanced at his friend and was amused to see him looking practically slack-jawed at his lovely wife—after all these years, it was satisfying to know that Sherlock Holmes really did notice and could be stopped short by a beautiful woman. Suppressing a grin, he nudged Holmes forward.

Spell broken, Holmes offered his arm, smiling warmly. "Beth, you look wonderful!"

Beth blushed. "So do you." Her actual thought—the one that she had with any clarity when she saw her husband dressed to the nines like this—was "drop-dead gorgeous," but he probably wouldn't have appreciated that.

"You both do," Sally grinned, squeezing Beth's shoulder. "Have fun." Wining and dining at Simpson's... but there'd be other chances for the four of them to go, and pizza and movies with John would be good, too.

Beth smiled and kissed her cheek. "Thanks. You guys have a good evening, too!"

Holmes shared a grin with Watson, then turned to Beth. "Shall we, my dear?" She nodded, eyes sparkling, and they headed out to the waiting four-wheeler.

"Simpson's-in-the-Strand."

As the cab rattled through the streets, Beth felt another squee coming on and bit her lip, a soft but high-pitched squeak of excitement still escaping her.

Holmes arched a mock-stern eyebrow, eyes twinkling. "A little more decorum, my dear, if you please. A married woman ought to at least be dignified." _Except when she's married to the Great Detective, when only remaining sane is required..._

She faked a pout in return, putting on her best puppy eyes. "But I can't _help_ it. 'Sides, not only am I young, I'm also American." She tossed her head—but carefully, mindful of the small hat she was wearing. "Don't think I'm not going to use that."

Holmes chuckled delightedly. It might take a little time, but once Beth had properly found her feet, Victorian London wouldn't know what had hit it.

* * *

Once they arrived, Sherlock climbed down and held out his hand to help Beth down, beaming. She gladly accepted his help, her high heels, corset, and piled-up hair fighting her sense of balance. But safely on the ground, she stared up at the place, eyes wide with wonder. She would never, _ever_ have dreamed as a kid that she would actually be coming here to Simpson's, and like this, no less, with Sherlock Holmes! "Oh my gosh," she murmured.

He squeezed Beth's arm lightly as she took his, opening the front door. She looked so happy right now, he could almost wish for Time to stop again, just for a few hours...

Beth's eyes were still wide as they walked inside, trying to drink it all in. "Wow..." She sighed happily, turning to Sherlock. "How often do you boys come here, anyway?"

"Not as often as we'd like – which is no slur on Mrs Hudson's talents, I hasten to add. Watson's fond of saying that at least when we dine here, he knows I'll actually sit down and eat a proper meal without getting distracted by a case!"

She snickered. "How _were_ you at meals when you were a kid?"

Holmes's grin was faintly sheepish. "I believe the cook deserved a sainthood as much as our blessed landlady."

Beth shook her head, grinning back. "That could be taken two different ways, hon: either you didn't eat or you were always bugging the cook. And I can totally see you doing both—so which one was it?"

"More often than not, I would be absent from the table, due to lack of interest or being absorbed with other matters –" An impish glint came to his eye; "although Mycroft more than compensated for my lack of enthusiasm!"

She giggled. "Oh my gosh, you're a younger brother, all right."

The head waiter approached and bowed, then led them to a table, Holmes pulling out a chair for Beth.

Beth settled carefully, cautious of her dress. "This place is _so_ beautiful," she murmured.

He seated himself opposite, murmuring back teasingly, "Will you be going on like this all evening?"

She narrowed her eyes briefly, then leaned in and said, "Probably, yes. I can't help it!" He couldn't take her into the midst of all this... this _amazing-ness_ , and expect her to not be affected by it!

Dear heaven, she was adorable like this. He gestured at the bill of fare. "Any preferences?"

She pursed her lips as she scanned the menu and shrugged slightly, shaking her head. Everything looked good to her—often a problem with restaurants, no matter which century she visited them in. "Not really..."

"Well, one of the benefits of Simpson's is that you may sample anything you wish before ordering proper. I can, however, personally recommend the roast beef. They'll even carve it at the table."

She nodded. "I've read about that. Sure, that'd be great." Her gaze began to drift once more to her surroundings, the decor and the people, all very normally Victorian, nothing out of place anymore...

He signalled the waiter, ordering roast beef for two with all the trimmings. "And what would you care to drink this evening?"

Beth smiled sheepishly and shook her head. "I'm sorry—you really have to be calling the shots on ordering until I get used to this."

He nodded. "And we will have a bottle of Merlot, also – the Château Ausone '72, I think."

"Excellent choice, sir."

Beth smiled gratefully at Sherlock as the waiter departed. "So..." She shrugged and gave him a 'What now?' look.

He smiled back, murmuring, "It's all right, love, we needn't fill every moment with talk. In fact, conversation is actually frowned upon in here! Simpson's started out as a chess club, you'll still see patrons having the occasional game."

She hesitated—still a teenager and one from the late 21st century at that, the idea of doing something recreational with someone else and _not_ talking wasn't a notion that she was used to. After a moment, she said dryly, "So the Diogenes Club in restaurant form, hm?"

Holmes chuckled, much taken with the apt analogy. "Oh, indeed. Were Mycroft not such a creature of habit, he would no doubt dine here frequently!"

She laughed silently, shaking her head. "You just can't resist the opportunity to take a crack at your poor brother, can you?" she whispered. And being an older sibling herself, she had to empathise with her brother-in-law.

He gave her an unrepentant grin, spared from having to reply by the waiter returning with the wine. With the presentation complete, he raised his glass, smiling warmly. "To you, dearest."

She blushed, raising her glass to his. "To _you_ , too, sweetheart."

"And the continued adventures of Sherlock and Elizabeth Holmes."

A pair of waiters wheeled a silver-domed trolley up to the table and began carving the roast.

Beth blinked back suspicious moisture and looked down, grateful for the wine glass partially obscuring her face. She exhaled, and set her glass down, murmuring, "John's rubbing off on you—that sounds like a book just waiting to be written."

"Mm... Well, perhaps I ought to start keeping a journal – purely for posterity, of course." Publishing his memoirs in this or any century could have unfortunate repercussions – the news of their marriage was going to cause enough of a sensation.

She groaned. "You mean you never have?" She sighed—she had hoped that he would have done even some intermittent _was_ a thing of the general era, after all. "That does it—we are going to start working on your biography." It was her duty as his wife and PR agent (not that he knew it yet, but just wait until they got back to the future) to think about these things.

He shrugged defensively. "I never saw much point in keeping one before. All of my prior cases are well documented, anyhow." And those interminable stretches in between cases hadn't seemed worth recording.

She raised her hands placatingly. "Okay, okay... Well, at least we have that to work off of." She smiled. "I am serious, though."

"I know." He sighed, smile faintly resigned. "Watson will be delighted, he's always wanted to read more of my early cases."

Grinning, she saluted him with her glass before taking another sip. "Fantastic." She set down her glass and rubbed her hands together. "We start tomorrow, ten a.m. sharp— _I'm kidding_."

"Well, I did have something in mind for tomorrow morning –" He arched a suggestive eyebrow; "although it certainly wasn't reminiscing..."

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't quite bite back a smile. "What _am_ I going to do with you?!"

"Well..." Holmes reached into his coat pocket and produced a couple of pasteboard tickets. "Perhaps accompany me to the theater after dinner?"

Beth's eyes went wide—the _theater?!_ "Oh my gosh, yes!"

"'The Importance of Being Earnest' opened last night at St. James's. Sally was certain you'd like to go, so Watson procured us a box." Such excellent seats on a few hours' notice... he half-suspected the Doctor might have taken the TARDIS back a few days to the ticket office.

"Oh wow. Okay." She smiled sheepishly, practically vibrating excitedly. "Brace yourself for more touristy-type starry eyes."

He chuckled tenderly, nodding down at the plates the waiters had just placed in front of them. " _Bon appétit, cherie_."

* * *

"No... please..."

Holmes stirred, frowning, roused from sleep by the growing sense that something wasn't right...

"... _no_..."

That voice... He cracked his eyelids open, turning his head groggily. "Beth?" His eyes widened as he saw the state she was in, head tossing on the pillow, breath hitching harshly between whimpers. Dear God, not again... He leaned up on his elbow and gently touched her shoulder. "Beth..."

"NO!" The effect was electric, Beth jerking up and awake in an instant, staring wild-eyed into the darkness, chest heaving.

"Beth!" He hurriedly sat up himself, putting his arms around her. "It's all right, love, you're safe, it was just a dream..." _Please be all right,_ _ **please**_ _..._

Beth flinched. She wasn't... she wasn't... they were nowhere to be seen... _they're gone_... Sherlock was holding her; she was safe... She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Sherlock..." She closed her eyes and pressed the heels of her hands against them, trying to exorcise the images in her mind's eye, and shuddered again.

He rubbed her upper arm gently, murmuring, "I'm right here, sweetheart, it's all right..." _You're safe, Beth, they can't hurt you, never again..._

Trembling, she lowered her hands, opened her mouth, then pressed her hand to it, stifling a sob. _"In that case, Colonel... you may do what you will. I will not tolerate such displays of temper, Elizabeth..." No... they're gone... they're gone..._

"Oh, _cherie_..." He tightened his hold, a lump in his throat, starting to rock her.

She trembled harder, breath hitching faster and faster behind her hand. She needed to cry, but she couldn't—if she did, she didn't know if she would ever stop...

Heart aching, he kissed her hair and murmured, "It's all right, Beth... just let it happen... I've got you..."

She covered her mouth with both hands and released a long cry into them, starting to sob in earnest. Why couldn't those memories fade... why did she have to have nightmares... why...

Holmes blinked back his own tears, still rocking her and rubbing her back in slow circles through her nightgown. _My poor love..._

"Oh, God, please, I want them out of my head, please, God, I want them out of my head, _please_...!" She shook from the force of her sobs as Sherlock gathered her into his lap, shifting backwards to lean against the headboard, cradling her gently. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him, and buried her face in his shoulder as if she could hide from the memories there... _"Oh, my dear girl, did you really think you would forget..."_ _No... leave me alone!_

How he wished there was anything he could say to comfort her... but all he could do was just to keep holding her tight, rocking her until her sobbing gradually eased. "Can you talk about it, sweetheart?"

Tremors running through her body, she struggled to catch her breath, looking up and trying to speak... And suddenly she couldn't, certain that if she tried, she would start screaming. She shook her head, eyes wide.

The anguish in Beth's eyes made Holmes's chest hurt, even Watson's nightmares of Maiwand had seldom been this bad... _And how did you help Watson when that happened?_ He smiled as the answer came to him, and kissed her forehead tenderly. "Let me up, _cherie_ , I'll be right back."

Frowning questioningly, she let go and sat up, shivering in the sudden cold and taking shuddering breaths.

Holmes got out of bed and lit the candle on the nightstand, noticing himself for the first time how bitterly cold it was in here. He draped Beth's dressing gown around her shoulders, throwing on his own over his nightshirt as he went out to the sitting room.

Beth gratefully pulled the robe tightly around her. A few moments later, Sherlock returned with his Stradivarius and bow, rounding the bed to sit on the edge beside her. Her eyes widened, but not from pain this time—she'd wanted all her life to hear him play.

He smiled at her tenderly, set the violin down, and turned so that his back was to her. "Hold onto me, Beth." He took her hands and positioned her, left arm around his waist, her right hand on his upper arm.

Confused, she murmured, "Sherlock...?"

"Trust me, _cherie_..." He picked up the violin again, tucked the end under his chin and readied the bow, the familiar routine and Beth's embrace helping to steady his nerves; it had been over a year for him since he'd last touched his beloved instrument. Closing his eyes, he began to play, soft, sweet and low, drawing the bow caressingly over the strings.

Her breath caught as her arm moved with his and the music began. It was so, so beautiful...

He leaned back against her, giving himself to the music, letting his hands voice what was in his heart in a way that mere words could not... _hands flat on the TARDIS console, eyes closed... in his mind, a tall, willowy brunette runs through a forest glade, graceful as a deer, he cannot see her face... "My darling, I had already begun falling for you before we first met..." A slim, female hand in his, palm rough and calloused, ring finger adorned by a plain band of gold... "I, Sherlock Edward Holmes, take thee, Elizabeth..." "I love you, Beth..."_

She leaned forward so that they were supporting each other, crying silently, heart full to bursting. It wasn't just Sherlock Holmes playing his violin—it was Sherlock Holmes playing a love song for her. _His_ love song to her...

As he felt her relax, the music gradually changed: a brighter melody, full of joy and hope for the future, Beth's hand in his at every turn, her eyes smiling into his each morning as they grew old together...

Beth was now limp against him, except for her hand on his arm, exhausted but at peace. _Thank you, my love... thank you so much_...

He returned the music to its beginning, ending on a soothing, tender note; laid the violin aside and put his left arm over hers, squeezing gently.

Sighing, she nuzzled him wearily. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too." He turned back and put his arms around her, holding her close.

She wrapped her arms loosely around him, cherishing the embrace now. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't want to have nightmares..." She didn't want him to have to bear her burdens along with his own.

" _Cherie_ , if any of us is entitled to them, it's you." He started to comb his fingers gently through her hair, untangling it. "It should be me begging your pardon, love... for being at least partially responsible for them..."

She shook her head. "Oh, Sherlock, you aren't! Sweetheart, this had nothing to do with you!" _"You're Holmes's whore—that's what makes it so satisfying."_ She shivered. _He is not to blame for your actions, or Moriarty's_.

"Nevertheless, Beth, Watson and I made a great many mistakes, before and after Time froze..." He stroked her now smooth hair, and went on sadly, "which cost you your life in trying to set right, when it was our responsibility to do so." Something with which he and Watson must both come to terms, whatever Beth might say.

"Sherlock," she said softly, "please don't... I don't want... don't want to talk about that right now..." Having just gotten through one emotional maelstrom, she wasn't ready to open up another, especially now that she'd calmed down.

"Of course – I'm sorry, love." Holmes was starting to feel the cold in spite of his dressing gown. He rose and set his violin on the dresser, then got back into bed with Beth, still in his robe.

She wrapped her arms around him again, tucking her head beneath his chin. "Am I always going to do this? Have nightmares?"

He bit his lip, wishing fervently he _could_ give her a straight 'no'. "It won't always be like this, sweetheart. It may take time, but eventually those memories will fade..." He resumed stroking her hair; "especially if you have stronger, sweeter memories to replace them."

She swallowed thickly. "...but tonight was so wonderful," she whispered. _So why did I have these dreams tonight..._ Sherlock's touch was making her eyelids feel heavy again. "I don't want to go to sleep..."

"Well, Watson does have a novel or two laying around the sitting room. Would you like me to read to you?"

She smiled faintly and nuzzled him. "I'd rather the story came from you..." _A story John has never written about_...

He nuzzled back, looking thoughtful. "Any particular one?" Just as long as it wasn't anything overly embarrassing...

She giggled softly. "There is one... I'm just not sure if it's happened yet."

"Oh?"

She looked up. "Does... 'the Giant Rat of Sumatra' ring a bell?"

He chuckled ruefully. "Indeed it does." He'd suspected she might be thinking of that one. "Very well, I'll do my best. Be warned, though, this will probably be a much drier account than if Watson were to tell it."

Eyes widening in excitement, she nestled back down. "Shut up – you'll be amazing."

He kissed her, smiling warmly, gaze distant for a moment as he recalled the details. "Let me see now... it was July of '83 – and a hotter summer I don't remember..."

* * *

 **Sky:** Poor Beth. Chapters like these are exactly why we needed this bonus episode. These scenes had to happen, and better 'on screen' than off it—when you have characters as broken as Beth and Sherlock have been, I think it's important to see them dealing with that brokenness and healing. And the Stradivarius...! Oh, to have heard that... it must have really been something else.

As always, apologies for life getting in the way, reviews are _greatly_ appreciated, and stay tuned! There's more angsty hurt/comfort to be had yet! :D


	9. Raise Me Up

**==Chapter 9==**

 **Raise Me Up**

 _This is why people touch. Sometimes words are just not enough._

– Nicola Yoon, Everything, Everything

Beth roused slowly from a very deep sleep, frowning slightly as she perceived an odd brightness from behind her closed eyelids… Then she opened her eyes and took in a cool, bright light with which she was very familiar, and her breath caught. She slid slowly out of bed, ignoring the cold floor, and padded over to the window, peering around the shades to see small snowflakes drift in the air. _Oh my gosh!_ Smiling, she returned to the bed and murmured, "Sherlock?"

He stirred slightly, brow furrowed a little. "Mm...?"

She kissed him on the cheek, trying to hold in her excitement. "Wake up, honey—it's _snowing_!"

Holmes blinked in bleary confusion, roused by the excitement in her voice rather than the words. "Wha..."

She heaved a sigh and brushed his hair away from his forehead— _oh gosh, he looks so_ cute _like this, trying to wake up_. "Sweetheart, it's snowing. It's the first snow."

"Tha's nice..." His eyes widened, the word 'snow' suddenly registering. "Oh." He rolled over and leaned up on his elbow, smiling at Beth's radiant expression. Lying in was clearly not on the cards this morning.

Grinning, she leaned back, her tone singsong. "Time to get dressed—we've got a date with the sno-ow!"

He groaned theatrically, levering himself out of bed. "You do realise we're probably going to be ambushed by the boys the moment we step outside?"

She shrugged, still grinning. "Quite possibly. Problem with that?"

Holmes chuckled silently as he threw on his warmest clothes and rummaged in the wardrobe for his galoshes. "Not at all – but be warned, most of them are crack shots, especially Watson."

She dressed as quickly as possible, throwing on one of her own sweatshirts from her duffel bag. "Mm, why am I not surprised?"

There was the soft _thud_ of a snowball hitting the windowpane.

Beth started, her head snapping in that direction. "Ho boy."

He pursed his lips, eyes gleaming. "Oh-ho... I do believe, my dear, that war has just been declared."

Her eyes widened at the look in his eyes. "Oy, what have I gotten myself into…?"

Holmes looked out of the window to see several Irregulars grinning cheekily up at him, but the biggest grin belonged to the Doctor.

Beth joined him and had to giggle at the Doctor's expression. "Zed. We have a severe tactical disadvantage here."

"Mm, and I doubt Mrs. Hudson would be eager to take part–" Holmes chuckled as he suddenly spotted Watson stealthily peering around the TARDIS door. "Aha, the cavalry's arrived!" Dashing downstairs, he grabbed his coat and scarf, then hesitated. 221B had more than one entrance...

Beth stopped short. "What is it?"

He nodded down the hall, grinning. "Let's not go out there entirely defenceless." He buttoned his coat and opened the front door.

She grinned back, throwing on her own coat and hurrying out the door. "Right behind you!" Then she stopped, struck speechless by the sight of Baker Street transformed by its first snow. It was _magical_...

Holmes descended to the street, tying the ends of his scarf together to make a sling for their ammunition. Then he looked back up at Beth, and was rendered momentarily speechless by the sight of his wife, standing amid the gently falling flakes. She looked like an angel...

Smiling up at the sky, she breathed, "It's so beautiful..."

"Indeed, my love..." _You most certainly are._

She looked back down at him and blushed, descending the steps. That look of adoration was never going to fail to take her breath away.

He took her hand and kissed it, murmuring tenderly, "I do believe, dearest... that I have just fallen in love with you all over again..."

Heart too full for words, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her, kissing her snow-spangled hair, and she returned his embrace, laying her head on his shoulder. "I think I fall in love with you all over again... every day..."

He smiled mistily, starting to shiver as the cold bit deeper, but unwilling to lose this moment.

Feeling his shivers, she nuzzled him gently. "Sweetheart… you should put your scarf on."

"Yes, dear." The meek response was belied by the impish twinkle in Holmes's eye, unknotting the scarf and winding it round his neck.

She smacked his shoulder lightly. "Come on, let's get us some ammo."

* * *

As they passed through the kitchen, one of Holmes's snowballs fell out of his arms onto the flagstones, scattering ice crystals. He scooped it up again hastily with an apologetic grin at Mrs. Hudson, who arched a stern eyebrow, then shook her head affectionately. "Breakfast at eight, and no boots at the table!"

"Yes, ma'am," said Beth. "Sorry, but apparently, we have to go fight a war right now." She tossed a casual salute at the older woman, who chuckled.

"Good luck!"

* * *

Holmes and Beth came out of the back door in a rush, guns blazing. The boys and the Doctor whooped and returned fire, but then Watson, Sally and George piled out of the TARDIS and attacked from behind, the ringleaders caught in a barrage of crossfire.

Narrowly dodging snowballs from the girls, the Doctor slowly, carefully pulled out his sonic, slipping it inside his sleeve and angling it at an overhang of snow on the roof above Sherlock. Off balance from letting fly at Will, the detective looked up at the sound of scraping overhead, just in time to get hit full in the face by a small avalanche, knocking him flat on his back. The boys fell about laughing, and Beth gasped in surprise, moving back towards him. "Sherlock! Are you okay?"

"Pfft..." Holmes sat up, covered in white powder, brushing it out of his eyes.

Watson beat Beth to Holmes from the other side, valiantly trying not to laugh himself. "Doctor, that's cheating!"

The Doctor frowned in mock-indignation. "Oi, I object to that accusation!"

Beth stopped short; Sherlock didn't need two people helping him up.

Watson offered a hand to Holmes, saying over his shoulder, "Doesn't mean it isn't tr- _oof!_ " Holmes had taken advantage of Watson's distraction by yanking the doctor down into the snow with him.

Sally gasped and laughed, Beth muttering her thoughts exactly, accompanied by an eye-roll: "Boys..."

A brief wrestling match ensued, both men laughing like lunatics. Beth's chest felt increasingly tight as she watched—which was ridiculous, of course, because this was simply her husband and his best friend _being_ ridiculous and having fun. They were funny and adorable doing it; it was just like she'd imagined it would be... But the tight feeling wouldn't go away, even when Mrs. Hudson's dinner bell sounded inside the house.

Holmes and Watson shook hands in truce, grinning, then started picking themselves up and brushing the snow off. Watson glanced over at Sally and Beth, and his broad smile faltered. Beth's face... He carried on brushing himself down as if he hadn't noticed, but his cheeks were no longer flushed merely because of exertion.

Beth averted her gaze just as quickly as John had. _What is wrong with me?_

Sally made her way back to her husband, smile turning to a questioning frown. John's good mood had disappeared in the blink of an eye—what was wrong?

"Ready for breakfast, love?" Watson kissed Sally's cheek, hoping he sounded more cheerful than he felt. "I'll get Kathy, if you like." He doubted he'd be exactly welcome at the table right now, anyhow. _That surprises you? No..._

Sally kissed his cheek in turn, making sure to give him a _we're talking about this later_ look. "I'd appreciate that."

Beth turned and hurried into the house, not waiting for Sherlock and not even sure what she was feeling just now.

Holmes looked after her gravely; it was clear from Beth's expression that something was bothering her, and it wasn't hard to surmise what that might be. He clapped Watson gently on the shoulder as his friend turned away, resolving to talk with Beth after breakfast. "Coming, Doctor?"

"Coming!" the Doctor replied from where he was hunched over with one of the smaller Irregulars on his back. How he got into that situation, he wasn't even sure, but he wasn't about to argue with it or the giggling little boy he was carrying.

Watson nodded gratefully at Holmes, trying to smile, though his appetite was now all but gone. At least the Doctor seemed happy – much more like the true, unburdened joy of John Smith than the Time Lord's usual hide-whatever-was-wrong-behind-a-smile trick... Smothering a sigh, Watson shooed the last of the Irregulars into the house, then trudged off towards the TARDIS alone.

* * *

After breakfast, the sitting room gradually emptied, leaving only Beth, curled up in Sherlock's armchair. John hadn't come to breakfast, and she had a sinking feeling it was because of that one moment of eye contact. _Yeah, good job on that, making the poor man too uncomfortable to come to breakfast in his own home. I didn't mean to! I didn't want that! Still feeling some resentment, are we? I never... Oh, no, of course you didn't resent him when you held Sally while she was feeling scared and lonely and upset. Or when_ you _felt scared and lonely and upset—cold and miserable, too_. _I don't want to_...

Holmes came back in from helping to clear the dishes, and frowned in concern on seeing Beth curled up in his chair. She looked miserable... He'd been a little disappointed that Watson had chosen not to come in – despite this being his honeymoon, he had missed his friend's company – but he could understand that Watson being at the same table as Beth this time would have been even more awkward than his being absent.

Beth didn't look up as he approached, perching himself on the arm of the chair, but she leaned into his touch when he gently stroked her hair. "Dearest?"

She managed to look up then. "Mm?" The pain in her eyes made everything he might have said just then seem completely inadequate, simply putting his arm around her instead. She leaned into his hold, grateful for the comfort. "I feel like a heel..."

"Oh, Beth..." He kissed her hair. "You have every right to be angry, sweetheart – and Watson knows that, too, he doesn't blame you."

"I don't _want_ to be!" she said miserably. She'd thought the anger had gone away, and she hadn't wanted it in the first place! John didn't deserve it... "That's what started this mess in the first place..."

"Love, Watson is very much aware of the part he played in all of this – and if I know him at all, he'll have been silently torturing himself over it ever since."

Her face twisted. "I don't want that, either!" She was sick to death of all the pain...

He hugged her tighter. "I know, love. I suppose it hasn't helped that there's been very little opportunity for you and Watson to talk together privately."

She winced. "I don't even know what I'd say..."

"If it helps, sweetheart, I'm sure he's equally uncertain. Will you think about it, at least?" If the four of them were to cohabit amicably once the Doctor had left, the air needed to be cleared, as soon as possible.

She bit her lip—she couldn't do that, she couldn't even start that talk, it would hurt so very much and she wasn't _that_ brave...

"Please, Beth..."

Sighing, she closed her eyes and nodded. She really _didn't_ want to, but she supposed she had to.

"Thank you." He took her hand, squeezing it. "And I suppose... Sally and I need to have a similar conversation before long." And he wasn't looking forward to that any more than Beth was hers.

"Mm." She smiled faintly at the mental image. "That should be interesting."

He nodded, sighing. "How on earth she put up with me when she first came aboard – how any of you did..."

"Don't think that she wasn't…" She echoed his sigh, and tried again. "She wasn't exactly the happiest with you, hon, but… things _are_ different now." She reached up and touched his cheek. "And _I_ just wanted you to be okay," she murmured. "You _were_ difficult, but you were obviously not all right."

He smiled at her touch, which soon faded again. "If I'd just been able to admit to myself how jealous I was... I'm afraid I never did entirely forgive Mary for capturing Watson's heart the first time... and to see it happening all over again..."

Beth winced again. _Oh, Sherlock..._ And on the other hand, did John really not see Sherlock for several _months_ after the wedding as he said he had in 'A Scandal in Bohemia'? _If that's true, it's_ very _easy to see why Sherlock would have abandonment issues apropos of his own childhood_. "I can't say that you handled it well... but then, I can't say that John did, either... Standing in a room full of people and being alone... sweetheart, I know what that's like." _More than you know, I know_.

He caressed her cheek, smile returning. "And if I am entirely honest..." blushing faintly, "I believe I may also have been... envious... of what they had." What else could one call it? Seeing how happy Watson and Mary had been, he simply couldn't keep from wondering, deep down, if he might be missing out...

She stared at him—he'd told her already about the first time he'd wanted to kiss her, but _still_... "You don't mean... that you wanted...some... romance of your own?"

"After meeting you in the future... once we'd left, I just couldn't seem to get you out of my mind... and that terrified me, but at the same time..." His smile turned tender. "I was extremely glad to see you again, even if I couldn't admit it."

She smiled ruefully back, stroking his cheek with her fingers. "Sure had me fooled..." Those memories still stung, just a little.

He turned his head and kissed her fingers, a silent apology. "Looking back now, I can better understand the look in Watson's eyes at times when he moved in with me again... and be still more grateful to Sally for all that she has given back to him."

She chewed at her lip and nodded. Poor John... and poor Sherlock... He would know now very well what John had gone through, going through it himself...

Holmes's side was starting to ache from his awkward perch, seating himself on the hearthrug instead, leaning against Beth's knee. And now his chest was aching, too, as more memories returned... _Watson's face as he lay unconscious on the floor of his study, so dreadfully haggard and lined, dark circles under his eyes..._ "He missed her so much," he whispered, staring into the fire. " _Why_ couldn't I at least be glad for him before...?" Before he found out firsthand what it was like... losing someone you loved more than life...

The pain in his voice... "Oh, honey..." Beth reached down and began to stroke his hair.

He rested his head on her knee, grateful for the touch, closing his eyes against the tears that suddenly threatened to well up. _Beth's white face against the scarlet snow..._ Even the weather had conspired to make him think of what he'd tried so hard not to...

Concerned at his silence—and his leaning against her: that wasn't for closeness's sake, that was for comfort—she murmured, "Sweetheart?"

What was supposed to be a calming breath hitched treacherously, tears finally spilling over. "...I'm sorry..." Bad enough that he'd failed to protect her from Torchwood – twice! – and now here he was, causing her more pain on top of everything else...

"Oh, honey!" Hearing the onset of a storm, she slid down to the floor and wrapped her arms around him.

His face crumpled, giving up the struggle and hid his face in her shoulder, clinging to her. "I'm sorry, Beth," he gasped out between sobs, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

She held him close, rocked gently, and stroked his hair, her own tears falling, feeling as if her heart was being stabbed with every sob. "Sherlock, it's okay, it's not your fault, I promise..." Her poor detective, taking responsibility for every tragedy... "I love you so, so much... Please forgive yourself, love, please."

Holmes burrowed closer into her embrace, trembling, hitching breaths slowly evening out. Not his fault... How he wished he could believe that... he didn't know if he ever would, and it wasn't enough that Beth did...

Rubbing his back soothingly, she started to sing, softly, her voice breaking a little as she did:

 _When I am_ _down  
And, oh, my soul so __weary  
When troubles __come  
And my heart burdened __be  
Then I am still  
And waiting in the __silence  
For you to come  
And sit a while with __me..._

 _You raise me up_  
 _So I can stand on mountains_  
 _You raise me up_  
 _To walk on stormy seas_  
 _I am strong_  
 _When I am on your shoulder_  
 _You raise me up_  
 _To more than I can be..._

The knot in his chest was beginning to loosen, Beth's soft voice and touch soothing beyond words... His head came to rest on her shoulder, breathing growing slower and deeper.

She, in turn, relaxed a little in relief as he calmed.

 _There is no life  
No life without its hunger;  
Each restless heart  
Beats so imperfectly;  
But when you come  
And I am filled with wonder,  
Sometimes, I think  
I glimpse eternity._

 _You raise me up_  
 _So I can stand on mountains_  
 _You raise me up_  
 _To walk on stormy seas_  
 _I am strong_  
 _When I am on your shoulder_  
 _You raise me up_  
 _To more than I can be..._

 _You raise me up_  
 _So I can stand on mountains_  
 _You raise me up_  
 _To walk on stormy seas_  
 _I am strong_  
 _When I am on your shoulder_  
 _You raise me up_  
 _To more than I can be..._

 _You raise me up..._  
 _To... more... than I... can be..._

She kissed his hair softly after she finished, drawing a faint, watery smile from him. Limp in her arms, he snuggled his head into the crook of her shoulder. She couldn't decide whether her heart was melting or breaking, or both. Continuing to stroke his hair, she smiled softly. "I love you."

"I love you, too..." What _would_ he do without her? "I missed you, Beth, I missed you _so_ much..." His voice had become a whisper, tears beginning to flow again. "And I couldn't even cry for you after..." There had never been enough time...

She swallowed the rising lump in her throat and kissed his hair again. "I know... I know..." _I don't know how he made it through... I don't want to..._ She nuzzled him gently. "My poor, poor Sherlock..."

He drew a deep, shuddering breath. "And once Time had been unfrozen... it seemed so very foolish to mourn for you after you'd come back to me..." Not to mention ungrateful!

"Oh, sweetheart... The fact that we managed to hit some kind of Temporal Reset Button... doesn't mean that you didn't lose me... that the things we went through didn't happen..." She nuzzled him again. "Believe me, Sherlock, I get it." She understood only too well—what they remembered would always be real to them... in some cases, all too real.

He leaned up and kissed her, striving to keep increasingly heavy eyelids open. Heavens, he was exhausted... It had been quite the full morning, now that he considered it, but he still wouldn't have expected to burn out this fast.

She smiled at the kiss and, noticing his state, said, "C'mon, sweetie, let's get you to bed. Or would you rather just make it to the settee?"

He nodded wearily, murmuring, "S'closer..." With Beth's help, he managed to get to his feet and reach the settee. "'M sorry, love..."

She shook her head as she laid him down. "It's all right, honey." She smoothed the hair away from his forehead and kissed it. "I think we're both going to be exhausted for a while..."

He smiled drowsily at her kiss, unable to resist asking, "Is that a promise?"

She snorted—he would be okay, all right—and tapped his nose. "Still incorrigible."

"Mm-hm..." His eyes drifted closed. "...love you..."

"I love you, too," she whispered. It was always going to be a thrill to hear him say that... She pulled the afghan on the back of the settee down to cover him, then bent to kiss his forehead one last time. She didn't want to do it, but it was long past time to have a talk with John Watson.

* * *

 **A/N:** Poor... everybody. Poor Beth and John and Sherlock. Again, this is why we're doing this bonus episode—there was a lot of ground that we needed to cover that just would throw the shape of "Together or Not at All" entirely out of whack. Stuff like Sherlock needing to have this catharsis for Beth's death, when he hadn't had the chance before... Beth and Watson hashing out their issues. (And, yes, a long-awaited conversation between Sherlock and Sally _is_ coming!)

Meantime, if you watch us (Ria and Sky) on the normal SH page, it's December, and we're posting responses to prompts all month long! Thus far, we've got Watson's college days, the Irregulars being the Irregulars, and Watson's own special first snow between us. And if last year was any predictor of this year, our stories could get very interesting, so please check us out there! :)


	10. An Ugly Truth

**==Chapter 10==**

 **An Ugly Truth**

 _The further inside you_ _hide_ _the hurt, the more it hurts inside. All wounds need air to heal._

– Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You

Navigating the TARDIS alone was more than a little unsettling for Beth. She had always _been_ with someone before, and the labyrinth of dimly-lit corridors was downright eerie—like something out of a horror film. Or worse: being a red shirt on _Star Trek_. The TARDIS, however, seemed to sense her unease, starting a pulsating hum, lights flickering in time with the sound. To lead Beth along, she guessed.

"Hello?" she called. "Anybody around? Hellooo..." What she wouldn't give to have Sherlock or Sally with her right now, even if, logically, she knew that the TARDIS would not let her come to harm.

At last, all the lights pointed to one door, and she stopped a moment to take a deep breath before opening it and stepping into an impressively large and beautiful theater. "Whoa..."

* * *

Standing at the edge of the stage, Watson stared out unseeing over the auditorium. He wasn't sure why his wanderings after giving Kathy back to her mother had brought him here, but knowing the TARDIS, she'd probably had a definite aim in mind. A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered proposing to Sally in just such a setting... the very stage where he'd seen Brett's Holmes transform in an instant into Moriarty, not twenty-four hours earlier... Watson shivered, then started when the door at the far end opened. His face grew warm as he recognised the silhouetted figure. What was Beth doing _here_ , of all places, and without Holmes?

Beth sucked in a breath as she spotted John and moved towards the stage, trying desperately to stay calm and above all, to avoid rambling. "Hey!" she called out in greeting. "Um, wonder what the Doctor needs with this…? Actually, probably don't want to know."

A quiet huff of laughter escaped him, relief warring with nervousness. "No, probably not. If you're looking for Sally, I believe she's taken Kathy to the conservatory..."

She bit her lip. _I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this_... "No, ah, actually… Thank you for the tickets!" she blurted out. "That was really fantastic, last night." ... _I could kick myself for sounding like an idiot_.

Watson blinked. "Oh. Well, you're... you're quite welcome – to be honest, it was really Sally's idea..." _You're babbling, stop it._ He pulled himself together, smiling hesitantly. "But I'm glad you enjoyed yourselves."

Beth nodded. "Yeah, we did! Yes…" _Oh, life was so much simpler when John Watson was_ only _the best English teacher I've ever had_... She didn't know how to say anything she only half-wanted to say without hurting him, and she didn't want to—she had never wanted that!

"Splendid..." His face was turning red again, gaze dropping to the floor. "I, ah..." _Don't be a coward, you'll never get a better chance than this..._ He sighed and looked back up at her. "Beth... can we talk?"

She nodded, tensing automatically. _This is not going to be fun_...

Watson gestured hesitantly at the edge of the stage and sat down himself, legs dangling, hands clasped together nervously, still wracking his brain as to how to begin. "Holmes is looking better." He cringed inwardly at how abrupt that had sounded, but at least it was a start. "Well, less like a skeleton, anyhow..."

Beth sat down and put her hands between her knees to keep them from twitching. "Ah, yeah—yes." She understood—John wasn't quite ready to take the plunge either. "He's, um, yeah, doing better—tired but better." She winced—forget pain, this was the most awkward conversation she'd ever had in her life and that _included_ all the highlights from her tumultuous relationship with Sherlock.

He nodded, letting his relief show in his expression. To know that you were loved, even without understanding why, was a powerful thing, and Beth and Holmes had clearly found that in each other – even Moriarty had seen it. Watson looked down again, steeling himself, the very last thing he wanted to be doing was digging up painful memories for Beth, or himself. "Beth, I... I am aware..." he began quietly, "that I bear a good portion of responsibility for what happened..."

She glanced at him, eyes troubled, and nodded slowly as she looked down again. "We can chalk you up for a third," she said quietly, dryly, "and then a third for Sherlock and a third for Moriarty." _Oh, geez, that was horrible—you wouldn't say that to Sherlock! Well, I'm sorry, but I don't love John as much as I love my husband, and... I'm still mad._

His face twisted – a veritable chorus of 'what-if's had been plaguing him ever since his capture, and didn't seem likely to stop any time soon. "If I'd only been with Holmes from the beginning..."

She sighed. "Moriarty would still have gotten his way no matter what… But, ah, yeah, that would have been nice."

Watson couldn't help flinching at that, though it was a much milder response than he'd been expecting. "My stupid, stubborn pride..." he whispered. "When Moriarty captured us, Holmes did everything he could to protect me, to protect all of us, even Sally... and when he tried to explain to me why he surrendered... dear God!" His hands clenched together. " _Why_ didn't I listen?" _Because being 'right' seemed more important..._

Beth flinched. _Poor Sherlock_... she knew now _exactly_ what he had gone through. "I don't know… because from the moment the Doctor came back for me… the best way I could think of at the time to describe Sherlock was 'upset'. And knowing what I do now, I would say 'afraid'." She took a deep breath again; she didn't want to ask this, but she had to know. "Doctor… at the beginning of 'A Scandal in Bohemia,' you wrote that after your first wedding, you didn't see Sherlock for, well, what sounds like a long time. Is that true?"

He nodded again, blush deepening. "Yes, it is true." Taking a deep breath, "And yes, there was... a good deal more to it than what you've read..." He couldn't think now why nobody had ever thought to ask about that before.

She nodded slowly. "Sherlock's asleep again right now. I've got time."

"Holmes... did his best to be civil to Mary after our engagement... although it was painfully clear that he did not approve – and I'm ashamed to say that I gave very little thought as to why." And it seemed so painfully obvious now.

Beth winced again but nodded. _"I'm afraid I never did entirely forgive_ _Mary_ _for capturing Watson's heart the first time... and to see it happening all over again..."_ "And...?" she said softly.

Watson made himself go on, voice thick with remorse. "And... despite any good intentions either of us may have had at the beginning... the tension rapidly grew between us. Things were said – on both sides – that should not have been said... all of which resulted in my moving into the rooms above my new surgery a week before the wedding." He hated to admit it, but that had been as much of a relief as anything else – until the first nightmare, waking in a cold sweat to empty rooms and aching silence...

Beth groaned and dropped her face into her hands, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes. She wanted to cry for John and Sherlock both, idiots that they were...

He smiled sadly. "I'm sure Mary could cheerfully have smacked both of us around the head... but she never said a word about it – well, not directly." At Beth's questioning look, he went on: "A few months after the honeymoon, I came home from a particularly trying day... and found, to my dismay, that Mary had given the cook a night off and was preparing dinner herself."

Beth tried to bite back a smile, without success. "Sally told me that Mary's cooking skills were... lacking..." _Now I really wish I could have gotten to know her_.

"That's putting it mildly. When I inquired, she answered in the most innocent tones imaginable that she hadn't expected me home until much later, and asked after Holmes's health." He chuckled silently. "I took the hint. If I hadn't, she would have continued to cook indefinitely."

Beth had to chuckle slightly herself. "Awww, bless." She sighed and shook her head. "Doctor, believe me, I know that Sherlock can be an inexcusable jerk sometimes—heaven knows I've been on the receiving end enough times. But... knowing what I do now... it's really kind of a miracle that he's even a functional human being."

Watson nodded somberly. Moriarty had taken great delight in informing the doctor that he'd been one of Sherlock's first teachers, and had missed few opportunities afterward to remind him of the fact. "Holmes spoke so rarely to me about his past–" He sighed; "if the Greek Interpreter case hadn't happened, I might have waited much longer to learn about Mycroft." He gave Beth a small but grateful smile; thank God his friend had finally found someone he felt comfortable confiding in.

She nodded slowly, looking away from his smile—she wasn't ready for it. "Mm. I think... he was probably scared of getting close to you—close to anyone. We had to go through several awful fights before we could establish what our relationship _was_ , and he couldn't even quite believe me when I first told him that I loved him." She was never going to forget the breathtaking pain of hearing him say "no" in response to her "I love you," as if he hadn't wanted it...

His smile faded as he listened, chest aching. "I suspect you were... the first to ever tell him so..." He'd had plenty of time to realise that, despite his anger at Holmes seeming to take their friendship for granted, he had often been equally guilty of the same. And for _Holmes_ , of all people, to admit that he, too, had fallen in love! Given the circumstances, Watson could only imagine what such a confession must have cost him.

Beth's face twisted as she looked down. "I might have been..." As much as Mycroft obviously loved his brother, it was very possible that he had never said it in so many words—and Edward Holmes would never have done so.

"And Beth... I want to thank you... Nikola showed me the memories you shared with him." The two lovers, hand in hand against the world, eyes only for each other, even while fighting... "To be honest, I could hardly believe it was the same Sherlock Holmes!"

She bit her lip, still vividly recalling that torrent of memories. If it had helped, she was glad. "He never stopped _being_ the same Sherlock Holmes..." In retrospect, it was easy to see that, even if it was confusing at the time: the person he'd been since their marriage was the person he'd always been—the person she'd always thought he was—but with his guard down.

And she would hopefully never know just how hard that still was for him to accept. "Beth, I... I don't have the words to tell you how thankful I am... that you were there for him... or how ashamed..." His voice cracked, blinking hard. "I'd given up on him, Beth... that is the plain, ugly truth. I berated and scorned him for giving in to Moriarty... and then did exactly the same thing... believed every lie he told me..." Moriarty had chosen his moment perfectly, yes indeed, and not only with Holmes...

Beth absolutely had to look away then, her insides smoldering with anger. She took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and closed it again— _if I try to speak I might start screaming... and I_ want _to_... She hadn't felt like this since having that argument about Sally and Mary with Sherlock, and she _hated_ it.

"I abandoned my best friend when he needed me most... and not only him... Just leaving you to cope with Holmes at Baker Street was inexcusable!"

She clenched her jaw at that—the memories still stung, she'd been completely abandoned... "Yeah, it was."

The pain in her voice... _Brace yourself, old man, an explosion can't be far off..._ "I'm so sorry, Beth." If only he could think of _anything_ else to say.

She stared disbelievingly at him. "You're sorry." She threw up her hands, and rose to her feet as she continued, her tone bright and sarcastic: "Well, all right-y, then, no harm done—it's not like anybody _died_ or anything." Anger quickly slipped into her voice and she couldn't stop it—and she didn't want to. "It's not like anybody was running for their life or constantly pretending to be a boy for their own safety or camping out in sewers or getting violated _twice_ by a retired colonel just because somebody happened to get on his boss's radar because _you weren't there!_

"I don't think Moriarty ever even knew about Sally, and guess why? Because she could stay on the sidelines; she could stay outside his radar! I didn't have that—I never had that! I was a target Day One just because I was trying to help Sherlock! Who, by the way, you left _totally_ vulnerable and ripe for Moriarty! He listened to everything that monster fed him because he didn't _have_ anything else!

"And even then, Sherlock was going to kill himself before I got there because he _still_ had nothing left!" The thought still left her shaken—he had been that close and she hadn't even known... "And _my_ death was an accident—" she almost choked on the lump rising in her throat, her vision blurry—"I was next up on Moriarty's protégé list! Almost everything that could have gone wrong _did_ go wrong, because you couldn't be bothered to _be there_ for a friend who _needed you_ , and you're _sorry?!"_

Watson could only sit in stunned silence, horror growing at every word. Holmes... his friend would have killed himself?! And Beth... Poor, _poor_ girl... He bowed his head as the tears welled up, pale and shaking. He should have listened to Holmes from the very first, never let the Doctor take them away...

Beth pressed her hand to her mouth, trying not to cry. She turned away, wanting to go— _how was this conversation a good idea in the first place? It was a_ terrible _idea_...

"I was alone, too, Beth..." Watson's voice trembled with the effort of not sobbing aloud. "My entire stay at Torchwood in a single room... no windows... nothing but my own thoughts to keep me from going mad... except when _he_ came... to show me how Holmes..." He couldn't even finish the sentence, the words sticking in his throat. "How I wished they _would_ keep torturing me... because at least then... I could hope..." Hope that it meant there was still something left of his friend. "The only thing that kept me going... was the thought that you and Sally were still out there... still alive... and then Moriarty told me you were dead... sh-showed me your l-locket..." He choked, covering his face with his hands, sobs finally escaping. Regaining consciousness with a broken arm had been nothing compared to realising that he had no idea whether he should be mourning Sally as well...

Beth's chest ached as she listened, anger conflicting with pity—she was trying very, very hard to empathise with him, because she felt a terrible blankness in her heart where the empathy ought to be. She looked back at him, not sure what to say. _He's hurting, so, so much_... "I'm sorry," she murmured.

He barely heard her, the thought burning in his mind slipping out almost unconsciously in a broken whisper, " _...it should have been me..._ "

Her breath caught, something inside her thawing. _Poor, poor John_...

He made himself look back up, look her in the face. "Beth, you lost your life... trying to save all of ours... and I know that... there's nothing I can say or do to make amends... God, I wished so much that we could go back to the beginning..." A despairing huff of laughter escaped; "and then we did! Time was reset, you came back from the dead... only for us to fail you all over again..."

She shook her head—she wasn't going to have anyone else berate themselves over her kidnapping. "Doctor, that second time was no one's fault but Moriarty's. Not yours, not Sherlock's..." _You should have stayed at 221B... you shouldn't have gone home alone_... She took a shaky breath. "...and not mine."

Watson couldn't conceal his frown, appalled; that Beth had thought even for a moment that _she_ was to blame... "Of course it wasn't." He would have liked to give her a hug – she certainly looked as if she could use it – but somehow he doubted she'd appreciate one from him just at the moment. "It might not mean anything to you, Beth..." he went on quietly, "and I understand completely if you can't forgive me... Nevertheless, I am... truly sorry." He could live with her hating him, he could, it was no worse than he deserved, all he really needed was for her to believe him...

She closed her eyes for a moment—the pain in his voice was too much. _I don't want to feel like this_... "Doctor... I do want so much to be able to say that I forgive you... That just... that just wouldn't be true quite yet. It _will_ be—I _will_ forgive you, I promise—I just... can't... not just yet... Everything's... all too much... too recent..." Things still hurt too much; she had too much anger just yet... "I just need a little time."

He nodded jerkily, wiping his eyes, and murmured, "I confess, that is far more than I dared hope for." He'd even considered finding new lodgings once the Doctor had left, if Beth truly felt herself unable to live under the same roof.

She exhaled shakily, running a hand through her hair. "Trust me," she said quietly, "this isn't easy for me. Sherlock wasn't my only childhood hero." She smiled ruefully. "'Sides, I can't be angry forever at the husband of my best friend, the best friend of my husband, and the father of my goddaughter."

Watson couldn't help smiling at that. "Thank you, Beth... for everything." He sobered as his oh-so-helpful conscience reminded him yet again just how much worse things could have gone. "You kept Sally and Kathy safe when I could not... and I will never forget that."

Beth blushed and looked down. "That was more George and Nikola than me—way more Nikola, really, than anybody else. I'm, ah, definitely _not_ the only hero around here…" _Definitely more Nikola than anyone else, except for maybe the boys—what did I really have to do with it?_

"I'm not arguing that point, Beth," he answered warmly, "but you most certainly deserve to be counted as one of them."

She bit her lip, shifting uncomfortably. _You most certainly do_ not _deserve that; what did you do that anyone else couldn't do?_ "I just did what I had to," she said softly—"that was it, that was all."

Watson tsked affectionately – and he'd thought persuading Holmes to take credit was frustrating! "Well, I could point out that that attitude is one of the defining traits of heroism..." Smiling innocently, "But since you're blushing enough as it is, I'll refrain."

Her face still heated, Beth managed an embarrassed smile. "Thanks..." The next moment, the door stage-right was opening and Sally's voice was filling the space.

"There you are—oh, Beth!" Sally hadn't thought that she might find her best friend with her husband, not after this morning, and both had the look of having just gotten through a difficult conversation. She shifted Kathy's weight to her other arm and walked towards them. "What's up?" John's eyes were reddened, and Beth's lost expression was much too familiar...

The younger girl shook her head and moved forward as though she were going to wrap her arms around Sally like she would at Rosewood, for comfort, and then stopped and hung back. "Nothin'," she drawled softly. Sally had long since noted that Beth only drawled to hide her emotions. "Just talkin'."

Watson got to his feet, his reassuring smile much more genuine this time as he took Kathy, bouncing her in his arms a little. "Hello, wee lass. Did you have a nice walk with Mama?" His daughter cooed, smiling back, and Watson caught a faint impression of lush greenery and flowers, tinged with frustration at Mama not letting her touch anything...

Sally stepped towards Beth and looped her arm around the younger girl's. "Do you know, Miss Beth, what I think we should do?"

"No, Miz Sally, what?"

Sally grinned. "A surprise." At Beth's giggle, she continued, "A specific one. With Will and the boys."

Beth's eyes widened in understanding. "Ohhhhh. Oh, _yes_! Well, maybe. Actually, seriously?!" She had no idea how Sherlock and John would take to their favorite pastime at Rosewood.

Sally laughed. "Well, it'd be a shame to let all that talent go to waste."

Watson looked up, smile turning quizzical. "Should I be worried?" _Not paranoid, are we? Well, the last time those two conspired against Holmes and I, Reality did end up being rewritten..._

Sally chuckled and shared a conspiratorial grin with Beth. "Always."

* * *

 **Sky:** Poor Beth and John. *hugs them both* Sorry for the delay! Life, y'know. Hope everybody had a good Christmas and enjoyed "The Return of Doctor Mysterio"! And a Happy New Year to everybody! (Show of hands—who's excited for the new season of Sherlock? We can't wait!)


	11. For Queen and Country

**==Chapter 11==**

 **For Queen and Country**

 _The little things? The little moments? — They aren't little._

– John Kabat-Zinn

"He'll see you now, Mr. Holmes."

Holmes examined his freshly scrubbed reflection in the washstand mirror as Mycroft's heavy tread sounded on the stairs. The detective had been woken a little after noon by an apologetic Mrs. Hudson with the news that his brother was once again at the door, and he wasn't about to receive even family with sleep dust in his eyes and dried tear tracks on his face...

"Sherlock?"

"Have a seat, Mycroft, I'll be with you in a moment." Holmes dipped his comb in the water and hastily slicked back his hair, then reached for his jacket, shrugging back into it as he re-entered the sitting room.

Mycroft was settling into Watson's chair, giving Sherlock the ghost of a smile as he appeared. "Hello, my boy, you're looking well." Curiously, Elizabeth and the Watsons were nowhere to be seen or heard—and neither were Nikola Tesla and George Westinghouse, whom Mycroft had recognised almost immediately during the wedding.

"As are you, brother mine," Holmes smiled, shaking hands. He seated himself in his own chair, eyeing his brother curiously. "To what do we owe the pleasure? I gather there have been no further complications regarding the recent case?"

"None whatsoever. As a matter of fact, Oberstein's arrest came at rather a convenient time for one of our own agents in Europe." It was a very neat wrap-up for a case that had started out as such a conundrum. "You may also be pleased to know that Cadogan West is being awarded the Order of the Bath posthumously, for services rendered to Queen and country which cost him his life." Mycroft lowered his voice in respect for the deceased. "It means little enough in the face of his death, but at least his memory can be honoured."

Holmes nodded in approval – he had a strong suspicion who had been responsible for the nomination. "Actually... if it would not be inappropriate, Mycroft... I should like to deliver the news to West's mother and fiancée personally."

Mycroft nodded back—he'd rather thought Sherlock might want that. "By all means. I also have news for _you_ , personally." He had trouble suppressing a grin; he knew exactly what his little brother would think of this. "A certain lady wishes for your presence at Windsor on Friday; she would like to thank you for your own service in this matter."

Holmes sat speechless for several moments, cheeks burning. Dear heavens, Mycroft had no idea just _how_ embarassing such a summons was to him this time. Not that Holmes was insensible of the honour, far from it, but... there had been so many others involved in the Rift Affair who were much more deserving...

Elizabeth entered the room at that moment, rubbing her hands together, wearing trousers that were undoubtedly Sherlock's and a knitted pullover. She froze at the sight of Mycroft, eyes wide, and he felt a pang at the look. She had been caught outside of the little act she and Sherlock had concocted, but she didn't have to play a part for her brother-in-law...

Beth coloured slightly, swearing inwardly for having been so wrapped up in her issues that she hadn't heard the brothers talking. Mycroft was looking... sympathetic? ...and Sherlock looked relieved. She regained enough composure to nod at Mycroft. "Hello," she said in an altogether too-weak voice.

Mycroft smiled. "Good afternoon, Elizabeth. My apologies for interrupting your honeymoon—affairs of state, I'm afraid."

"And you well know my views on such matters, brother mine," Holmes sighed. "Could you not have interceded on my behalf?"

Beth raised an eyebrow. "What matters?" She turned fully to Mycroft. "What's he trying to worm his way out of now?"

Mycroft had to suppress an amused smirk at the glare Sherlock was bestowing upon his wife—and almost laughed outright to see that she was also trying not to smirk, albeit with less success. "I can only intercede so far, Sherlock—" he looked at Beth, finishing innocently: "Her Majesty was really quite insistent."

Her eyes widened again—the visit to Windsor mentioned at the end of the written record of "The Bruce-Partington Plans". "Ohhhh. Oh... my." She winced—she had been about to say "oh my gosh" and stopped herself at the last moment. She rounded on her husband in exasperation. "Really?" What an honour! He couldn't just refuse the Queen!

Mycroft was greatly enjoying observing these small but less-guarded moments between his brother and sister-in-law, and he was glad to see that Beth most certainly had it in her to handle Sherlock in all his moods. "It is high time you received recognition for your services, brother mine; you can only avoid it for so long."

Holmes redirected his glare at his brother, though it was somewhat half-hearted by now. "Very well, I accept –" Holding up a finger, "on the condition, Mycroft, that this never happens again." _Don't pretend you're not the least bit flattered, old boy, you really aren't fooling anyone._

Sighing, Beth pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.

"I shall endeavour to ensure that Her Majesty understands," Mycroft said dryly. "The Prince of Wales, however, may be another matter altogether—my understanding is that he wishes one of his first acts as King to be the knighting of you."

Beth lowered her hand to grin at Sherlock, remembering the bit from _The Casebook_ that talked about his refusing a knighthood in the 20th century.

Holmes groaned, slumping in his chair. "I don't suppose I can simply disappear for another three years after the coronation..."

Mycroft snorted—he could imagine a few people who would have a great deal to say about that, one of whom was in this very room. "Indeed not."

Beth tilted her head and gave Sherlock a look to say that she really wanted to ask him about this attitude of his later, especially when he genuinely _liked_ attention. She straightened and started towards the bedroom, still feeling awkward and out-of-place in her modern clothing and hoping that changing into a dress would help that.

Mycroft rose in response. "But now I really must be getting back." His office could only stand for him to be away from it for so long.

Holmes nodded, rising himself. "Your second visit in a week, Mycroft," he couldn't resist remarking. "I never expected such energy from you."

Favouring his little brother with a Look, Mycroft took a heavy, gilt-edged envelope, embossed with the royal crest, from his pocket and handed it to Sherlock. "We live in most interesting times, do we not, brother mine."

Beth stiffened again but turned and smiled faintly at her brother-in-law. "Goodbye, Mycroft."

He smiled pleasantly back, resolving to have a talk alone with her at some point—he didn't want her to feel nervous around him forever. "Goodbye, Elizabeth." He nodded to his brother. "Sherlock." He was about to leave the room when he looked back over his shoulder. "And do try to refrain from any more housebreaking until Friday, won't you?"

A silent huff of laughter escaped the detective. "Only if strictly necessary, dear brother, never fear."

Mycroft sighed, shaking his head as he left the room—one would have thought he would be accustomed by now to his brother's lack of maturity, but apparently Mycroft was too optimistic for his own good...

Beth slowly exhaled at the sound of heavy footfalls descending the stairs. "What was that all about?" she asked softly.

Holmes was also more relieved by Mycroft's departure than he cared to admit, even knowing that his brother could be trusted regarding the Doctor. "Well, Mycroft had more news than a royal summons –" Sitting back down, he opened the envelope and scanned the contents; "ah, to which you are also invited." It hadn't taken long for the news of their marriage to get around.

She winced—her meeting Queen Victoria just sounded like the mother of all bad ideas. "Not exactly what I meant, but okay…" She nodded encouragingly for him to continue.

"Firstly, as I suspected, Oberstein is to be deported back to Germany in exchange for one of our own."

She nodded in relief. "What else?"

"Secondly – thanks to Mycroft, I believe – young Cadogan West is to be honoured posthumously for his bravery the night he died."

Beth's smile faded at the remembrance of what really started this case in the first place. "Good," she murmured.

"I, er, offered to take the news to his family." He still wasn't entirely sure why he'd volunteered; this promised to be a most uncomfortable interview.

She smiled faintly at him. "I think they might appreciate that..."

"Mm..." He still wished he could have done more in that regard. "So, what _were_ you referring to just now?"

She winced again and took a seat on the settee. "Just… why were you so set against an audience with the Queen? Why don't you want a knighthood?"

"Beth," Holmes sighed, "we both know there were..." Better not to mention Beth specifically, he knew how it embarrassed her; "many others involved in this case deserving of recognition. And truthfully, the same could be said for all of my cases. I simply do not wish to be singled out for such an honour – the work itself is reward enough." As it should be.

She smiled fondly. "Yes, well… the Royal Family are _always_ going to be your fans—you might as well get used to it."

"I suppose." Smiling back tenderly, he rose from his chair and came to sit beside Beth. "But I'm afraid..." putting his arm around her and kissing her, "that there's only one fangirl whose opinion truly concerns me."

She hummed contentedly, kissing him back, glad to find his mood improved since his nap.

His hand lifted from her back to stroke her hair, and found small damp patches. Hm, melted snowflakes? She had obviously just come in from outside when she found him and Mycroft together.

Leaning into his touch, she noticed his look of curiosity and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You looked cold coming in just now – were you out at the TARDIS?"

Oh... she was hoping not to have to talk about this just yet... _or ever_... She gave a small nod.

 _Ah._ "Watson?"

She nodded again, resting her head on his shoulder. He kissed her hair, tightening his arm around her, and she took a shuddering breath. "I never want to have a conversation like that again," she said in a small voice. She had felt so angry and upset, and John had been in so much pain...

Holmes winced, the misery in Beth's voice concerning him deeply. Unsure of how to ask what had happened, he chose to remain silent for the moment, still stroking her hair.

"I don't want to feel like this... I still haven't forgiven him... even after—" her voice broke—"everything he told me!" She started to cry. "I don't know why I can't..."

"Oh, Beth..." Chest aching, he rocked her gently, murmuring, " _Cherie_ , it's been less than a week since you came back... Don't punish yourself, sweetheart... give yourself time..."

She shook her head slowly—he didn't understand. "He was hurting... so much... and I could barely even feel _anything_..." She still couldn't, not really—she could only feel the _absence_ of her empathy, and it was horrible. Some hero she'd turned out to be...

"Shh, it's all right, love." He would have been far more concerned if that hadn't upset her. Lifting her chin, he kissed her tenderly. "I know... this isn't easy, for any of us. At least you did talk – I'm certain that meant a great deal to him."

She nodded reluctantly. "I think it did."

"I'm so proud of you." _And_ you _now have absolutely no excuse for not making time for Sally._

She sighed and nuzzled him. "Please don't be; it doesn't help..." _Bad enough that I failed in that conversation with John—having it in the first place isn't anything to be proud of. Not until I can forgive him, which I_ need _to do anyway, so why be proud of it at all?_

He nuzzled back, humming thoughtfully. "Is there anything that would, do you think?"

She was about to say she didn't know when she stopped and reconsidered, remembering something. "Actually... Could we take a walk? Out in the snow?"

"Of course, love," he smiled, and drew her to her feet. He wasn't particularly eager to go back out into the cold after this morning's snowfight... _but you did say 'anything', and Beth's looking more cheerful already._

"After all, that _was_ what I wanted to do this morning," she explained, smiling. "Boys just had to go spoil it." Typical brothers, really.

Holmes chuckled, heading out the door and downstairs. "Well, we ought to be safe from them this time."

She followed, muttering, "And if we're not, I'm going to _pound_ Will."

When they were both wrapped up warm, Holmes warily stuck his head out the front door, but Baker Street seemed deserted of all but one or two hurrying pedestrians. "All clear..." he said in a loud stage whisper, and Beth burst out giggling. He grinned and took her hand, closing the door behind them. "Where shall we go?"

She shook her head. "Anywhere is fine." Snow was beginning to descend again, freshening the already tainted first layer. "Oh my gosh, it is _so_ _pretty_." Having spent nine months seeing London dark and foggy and grimy, it was a welcome, magical change.

 _You both are..._ He offered Beth his arm. "Regent's Park?"

"Oh, yes! Absolutely!" She had always wanted to visit the place—in the daytime, that is.

They walked up the street and through the park gates, crossing the Outer Circle. A fair few people were out already and having fun in the snow, which included a trio of children building a snowman, and one enterprising street vendor was doing a brisk trade selling hot chestnuts. It was beautiful. This was Victorian London as Beth had always wanted to see it, lovely and alive and entirely the way it ought to be.

Holmes led her along one of the paths beside the lake, smiling at how happy his wife looked just now – he still found it remarkable how some of the simplest pleasures in life had become the most enjoyable. "So, a royal audience in four days... We'll have to find you a dress for court." And at his expense, too; somehow he didn't quite like the idea of prevailing upon the TARDIS this time.

She winced, her good mood fading. "Oh boy... I'm going to be a disaster." There was no way she _wouldn't_ say or do something embarrassing—if not scandalously mortifying then at least contrary to Victorian etiquette!

He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "You'll be fine, sweetheart. Despite her reputation in the future, Her Majesty actually does possess a sense of humour." _"We are not amused."_ Who had come up with that?

Beth grimaced. "Yeah, great. I'll provide entertainment as the ignorant little working class American girl."

"You know that's not what I meant, Beth," he said reprovingly, then relented. "Perhaps a better way of putting it would be 'a sense of compassion'. Who should know better than a queen about feeling out of one's depth?"

She sighed. "I'm sorry." Shaking her head, she continued: "I'm not even comfortable around _Mycroft_ yet—mixing me with royalty is a disaster in the making. I don't... I don't _belong_ here yet."

He chose not to argue that point just at the moment, saying lightly, "Well, if I am any judge, my love, Mycroft finds you delightful – as I'm sure Her Majesty will. And honestly..." Smiling ruefully, "I should be very grateful for your company." Pomp and ceremony wasn't his idea of a good time, either.

She had to smile back at that, and leaned against his arm. It was always nice to be wanted... "Well, then... I guess I can manage it."

"Thank you." He put his arm around her shoulders, then frowned as something else occurred to him. "I'll speak to Mycroft, try to have you excused from an official court presentation."

Her eyes widened. "A _court_ presentation?" She hadn't known that sort of thing was still being done as late as the 1890s!

"Expected even for those marrying into the gentry, I'm afraid." He didn't even remember that his family _was_ nobility most of the time. "Still, we'll see what can be done. It isn't as if either of us intends to break into high society." And putting Beth through all that ceremonial nonsense while she was still finding her feet in this era would be completely unfair.

She laughed nervously. _Zed, what_ did _I get myself into?_ "Ha, nope. I'm definitely not Irene Adler-type American: I'm not that classy."

Oh, how he hated to hear her putting herself down like that. "On the contrary, my dear – you and Mrs. Norton have a great deal in common."

He was frowning; she had to start doing better at keeping her opinions about herself to herself—he obviously didn't like hearing them. She tilted her head. "Other than being American..."

"Oh, yes." Holmes stopped walking and put both arms around her, smiling tenderly. "You're both courageous... resourceful... fiercely protective of the men you love..." He grinned. "And, most importantly, able to take the Great Detective down a peg or two when the need arises."

She blushed and ducked her head. "Yes, well..."

He kissed her snow-dusted hair, tightening his arms. "What would I do without you?"

She buried her face in his shoulder—they'd already sort of found out and she didn't want to think about it. "I don't know..."

He snuggled his head against hers, his heart almost too full for words. "I love you, Beth, so much."

"I love you, too," she murmured into his coat, her own emotions conflicted. "I don't know what I'd do without _you_." It was a sweet moment, she shouldn't have been feeling sad... But a horrible thought had wriggled its way into her mind: _I'm younger than he is; I'll outlive him_.

"Well, let's not find out, shall we?" he murmured back whimsically. "Just live forever?" _Though you might not get the chance if you keep standing around in the snow like this, it's freezing!_

Smiling sadly, she lifted her head and nuzzled him. Feeling him shiver, she turned and started to walk again, tugging him with her. "You big old romantic," she murmured.

"Nothing wrong with that."

His unrepentant smile... _"I should never marry lest I bias my judgment."_ She laughed softly in amazement. "Sweetheart, you have just gotten to be one big softie, you know that?"

"Which is all _your_ fault, I hope you know," he grinned, the sudden warmth of his cheeks a welcome thing for once. Beth giggled slightly and shook her head, her own cheeks turning pink. Dear heaven, she was beautiful... He stopped again, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Dance with me, love?"

Beth nodded, eyes shining. "Of course." _As if I wouldn't!_ He took her other hand in his and drew her closer, humming the waltz tune from their wedding reception, stepping lightly through the snow with her. Her smile turned misty as she moved with him. _I think I'm falling in love again_... She leaned forward and pressed her cheek lightly to his.

He moved his cheek gently against hers, marvelling anew at its softness, holding her close. _And to think you once disdained such things..._ What a fool he had been.

She closed her eyes, tension she hadn't even known she'd had draining out of her, heart full to bursting. Not thinking, not really—not about past or present, just existing in the moment.

Holmes raised Beth's hand to his lips as they came to a stop; he didn't know if his heart was pounding more from the exercise or his wife's sparkling eyes. _God, she's so lovely..._ Propriety be damned – heedless of anyone who might be watching, he kissed her.

Happily returning the kiss, she lifted her free hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, twining the fingers of her free hand with his. He hummed in pleasure, arm tightening around her waist. She arched slightly, lightheaded, pulse throbbing, lost in the moment...

 _Hate to interrupt, old chap, but you might want to slow down just a bit?_ Groaning inwardly, Holmes was forced to concede the point, reluctantly pulling back. "Dearest..." he managed breathlessly, "as much as I would love for us to continue... if we carry on like this here, we could well be fined for public indecency." He stroked her cheek, sighing, "And I should prefer to avoid that happening on our honeymoon, Lestrade would never let me hear the end of it."

She grinned ruefully, eyelids fluttering at his touch. "Oh, let somebody just _try_ that." _Self-confidence or no self-confidence, I'll merrily give them hell if they do_.

He chuckled appreciatively, and stole another kiss. "Well, I suppose..." He checked his watch. "Mm, it's almost one o'clock – shall we start heading back?" There had been some very promising smells wafting down the hall from the kitchen while they were heading out, lunch couldn't be far away.

Her stomach rumbled slightly, and she winced and sighed. "Yeah, suppose so." It had been so incredibly _nice_ , though, just to have a quiet, peaceful walk in the snow—so very far removed from their trek across the Continent. Arm in arm, they turned and began to make their way back toward the park gates.

* * *

As they walked, Beth thought of something she'd been wondering for a while, and decided that there was no time like the present. "Sherlock? I know this is out of the blue, but... how old are you?"

"That... is a very good question, I'm not entirely certain. I was thirty-seven when the Doctor took Watson and I away in the TARDIS, but Time is, ironically, difficult to keep track of when travelling in a time machine. If I had to make a rough estimate, I would say we were travelling for about... six months?"

"And it's been another nine-ish months since then," Beth mused, "counting Frozen Time." _Thirty-seven? Wow._ She coloured slightly. "Actually, I thought... um... I thought you were a bit older than that."

"Oh?" Just how badly _had_ the so-called experts gotten that one wrong?

Her blush deepened. "Well, the fandom generally accepts your year of birth as 1854, based off of a description of you in a later story... which—" she did the math quickly—"is pretty off. But me, I just... I don't know, I just thought you were older, that's all." Technically he was thirty-eight now and technically she was eighteen; twenty years wasn't so bad.

He squeezed her arm. "Well, I'm glad you didn't think me too old." Peter Cushing's performance had a lot to answer for, in his opinion.

She ducked her head in embarrassment. "I didn't care..." She had loved him since she was a little girl—age had never mattered.

He had to chuckle at that. "Forty-one, eh? That's still hardly a shocking age difference nowadays."

"I know." She lifted her head. "I mean, it's rare by my time—" something she had never understood: why people made such a big fuss over relationships with age gaps?—"but yeah, I know."

 _Oh, God..._ "How old would you say _you_ were, my dear?"

"Eighteen. I was seventeen when the Doctor came back for me."

 _Damn._ He nodded slowly, sighing. _Why_ hadn't he thought of this sooner?

She shifted uneasily at his sigh. "Why?"

"It hadn't occurred to me until just now that we were wed before you officially came of age in your time. I don't imagine your parents will be happy about that."

She winced—she'd certainly thought about that before. "They're... not going to be happy that I did, period." Her mom would be upset... and disappointed... and her dad... _I don't even know how Daddy will react._..

Holmes put his arm around Beth's shoulders, hugging her in silent apology; he hadn't meant to make going home more difficult for her!

She hugged him back and sighed. "Well... we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." She decided to change the subject by asking another question. "Sherlock... is your birthday in the spring?"

Holmes blinked – how had she worked that out? "Yes, March 17th."

She smiled. "You said it was your favorite season. And... it felt right." She coloured slightly again, knowing it was a pretty illogical thing to say, and shrugged.

"Well..." he grinned, "actually, I can't attribute that preference to the date. Spring arrived late that year – I was born during the last and, according to Father, the worst snowstorm of the season."

" _That_ figures, doesn't it?" Beth laughed. "Oh, well. At least now I know when to celebrate it." She grinned a little wickedly. "Take that, Mr. Baring-Gould!"

Holmes sighed. "If a man is bent on wasting time and effort on such things, he could at least make an attempt at accuracy." And he would never understand this mania for going through his case notes with a microscope, while somehow managing to overlook everything of real importance.

She hummed in agreement and leaned against him. _William Sherlock Scott Holmes... illegitimate child with Irene Adler_... _yeah_... "Yeah, well... fans. What're ya gonna do?"

"Lord knows... Write my memoirs, perhaps."

She grabbed his arm and squeezed it. " _Yes_. We need to start working on that!"

He squeezed back, smiling. "Although I may employ a little artistic license over recent events."

Beth shook her head. "No, please don't! There'll already be enough artistic license over them!" Too much, maybe, and the thought of it always made her heart sink. They were juggling far too many lies already—she and Sally were certainly going to have to live a lie for the rest of their lives...

"Love, even if I were prepared to reveal that I had married a girl from three hundred years in the future, I could hardly do so without also explaining about the Doctor!" The fewer records of _his_ timeline the better.

She opened her mouth to protest, then stopped and shrugged halfheartedly. She hadn't given up on the idea by a long shot, but trying to press the point now would only start an argument, and she didn't want to spoil their walk.

* * *

 **Sky:** So, why was Holmes only 37 when he left with the Doctor, and not 41 as would be supposed from the popular fanon that his birth year was 1854? Well, a few years ago, I did some math based on info we're given in the canon and came up with a birth year of 1858:

"His Last Bow" calls Sherlock 60; since the year is 1914, that places his birth-year at 1854. HOWEVER, we also know that Doyle was rather careless with his dates, and it's entirely possible that Sherlock Holmes was born a couple of years later. (It's also possible that, rather than carelessness, Doyle was simply giving his readers an _estimate_ of Sherlock's age. He still would have been _close_ to 60 in '14.)

 **FACTS:** Sherlock attended college for 2 years only (" _Gloria Scott_ "). Victorian young men entered college at 16 or 17.

 **SUPPOSITION:** Sherlock probably entered college no older than 18, and quite possibly younger.

 **FACTS:** The pre-STUD case "Musgrave Ritual" takes place 4 years after leaving college. Sherlock was "in active practice for 23 years" and Watson took notes for 17 ("Veiled Lodger"). Sherlock retired in 1903.

 **SUPPOSITION:** We may regard the 3 Hiatus years as "not in practice."

 **MATH:** 1903 minus 3 minus 23 is 1877. 1877 is probably when Sherlock began his detective work (this gives him enough time to have built up a practice as he already has in 1881).

 **QUERY:** If Sherlock was born in 1854, he would have been 23 when he became a detective. If he graduated at 16 or 17, there were 7 or 6 years in-between graduation and business, and only 2 of those years were college years. _What was he doing in the unaccounted 5 or 4 years?_

 **THEORY:** If Sherlock entered practice immediately (more or less) upon leaving college, he would (realistically according to history) have been 21 at oldest (though it is unlikely that he would have been 19 when entering college) and 18 at youngest. Put the year at 1877 and count backwards. He might have been born in 1856 OR he might even have been born as late as 1859. Sherlock Holmes may have been no older than 22 when he first met Watson in '81, although it's also possible he was 23 or 24.

 **Ria:** *applause* Golly, Sky makes all that look easy! And as there is one _tiny_ bit left of the canon case, those interested should head over to Sky's fanfic page! The Holmeses' visit to Windsor is posted in this year's Christmas challenge, 'All I Want For Christmas Is Crime', Day 9: 'The Detective's Wife'.


	12. Counting Stars

**==Chapter 12==**

 **Counting Stars**

 _"I am a weak, ephemeral creature made of mud and dream. But I feel all the powers of the universe whirling within me."_

— Nikos Kazantzakis

After lunch, Beth bounded into the TARDIS, followed more sedately by Sherlock. The inventors were standing over the TARDIS console with the Doctor, studying it. "George, Nikola, just the men I wanted to see! I had an idea—well, remembered something I thought you two would like to see!" She had been wanting to do this for months.

The Doctor watched Beth in bemusement and amusement. She was still a kid in a lot of ways, no doubt about it, and it was kind of endearing.

George and Nikola exchanged intrigued glances, then Nikola smiled. "Oh... would this be those 'Star Wars' films you were telling us about?" Mechanical men and ships that flew like the TARDIS... What he wouldn't give to be able to construct even one laser sword – what had Beth called it, a 'light sabre'?

Beth nodded rapidly. "You _have_ to watch the first one, at least!" She knew they'd enjoy it.

"Sounds good to me," George said, smiling himself at Beth's enthusiasm. "Doctor?"

The Doctor shrugged, sensing an ulterior motive on the part of the Holmeses. "I don't see why not." He nodded at the door to the corridor. "Old girl will lead you to the movie theatre…"

Beth made a noise of delight—she was excited for herself as well as for George and Nikola. She hadn't seen a movie in almost a year, except for the ones stored on her phone, and the tiny screen didn't compare! "Thank you, Doctor!" She gave him an excited peck on the cheek and bounded into the corridor. "Come on!"

George followed, laughing, "All right, we're coming!"

Holmes hesitated as the pair headed off – the Doctor was looking more than a little preoccupied, a bad sign more often than not – and his suspicions were only confirmed by a mental 'thumbs up' from Nikola as the telepath exited next. _You two need to talk._

The Doctor began to reassemble the console from the surgery he'd done to show the inventors. "I'll be heading out tomorrow," he said evenly, "and I'll take George and Nikola home with me."

Holmes nodded mutely. Knowing the Doctor would be leaving soon hadn't lessened his sinking feeling at the thought of it.

"I'm sure they'll want to make the trip over every so often, though—and Nikola will be able to hold telepathic conversations with Kathy in no time." The Doctor shook his head; he hadn't ever been Dad of the Year by a long shot, but he well remembered when his own kids were babies. "Baby Time Ladies, I tell you."

Holmes chuckled silently. "I'm sure her parents will be up to the challenge." Despite knowing who Kathy would grow up to be, he still felt slightly in awe of the little one – nevertheless, it was a joy to see the tender pride in Watson's face whenever he was with his daughter. _Not to mention you're secretly starting to wonder what kind of parents you and Beth would make..._ "It's been a good run, hasn't it, Doctor?"

The Doctor made himself look back up. "I would have done a lot of things differently if I could," he said quietly, "but... yeah, I suppose it was." It hadn't been all dark—and a lot of good had come out of it... Sighing, he closed the console and stroked it gently.

Holmes's lips twitched as he watched, then his eyes narrowed. "You aren't taking Nikola and George straight home, are you?"

The Doctor straightened up with an offended look. "Oi! All right, not _straight_ home, but George wants to get home asap and Nikola wants to do some sightseeing, so they've compromised. They're old hands at that."

Holmes nodded, smiling. At least the Doctor would have companions for a while longer, though with the Time Lord, there was no telling how long a short detour would really last! Still, the detective couldn't think of a better choice than Tesla and Westinghouse. "Only the best, eh, Doctor?" He laid an affectionate hand on the console, looking around the Control Room wistfully. "I am going to miss this..." Travelling via the device the Doctor had mentioned might be more accurate – one had to hope – but it just wouldn't be the same.

The TARDIS twittered sadly but fondly.

The Doctor sucked in a breath, nowhere near actually being prepared to say goodbye. He turned away just a little, voice husky. "This is going to miss _you_." Sherlock and John had been such good, good friends... and they'd really had such _fun_ together...

Chest aching at the distress in the Time Lord's voice, Holmes came closer and hugged him.

The Doctor was caught completely off-guard—hugging hadn't exactly been in Sherlock's repertoire in the past. Recovering, he returned the hug, taking another deep breath so that he wouldn't cry, grateful for the embrace.

"Just... don't forget to come back," Holmes said thickly, a lump in his throat.

The Time Lord shook his head. "I won't, I promise. No matter how long it takes me… I'll get Beth her third option."

Holmes smiled, that wasn't quite what he'd meant. "You don't have to have a reason, Doctor. We're always at home to family."

The Doctor stared at Sherlock. _Home_ and _family_ weren't exactly foreign concepts to him, but his definitions were rather unique and not what Sherlock was offering. Stability. Unconditional love. "Thank—" He stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again: "Thank you."

Holmes nodded, clasping the Doctor's shoulder. "Speaking of family... I should think it safe to say that Mycroft has deduced your identity." _"We live in interesting times, do we not, brother mine."_

The Doctor winced. "Yeah, I kind of got that, the other night." Going by that conversation, he didn't think it would cause any problems, but it was a little awkward nonetheless.

"In any case," Holmes said seriously, "if there ever was a need to take my brother into confidence over the, er, bigger picture, as it were, I shouldn't hesitate to do so." A note of pride crept into his voice. "Watson and I have kept the secrets of kings; Mycroft, empires."

The Doctor smiled slightly and nodded. "I trust your judgement, and I'm sure I can trust your brother's."

Holmes echoed the nod, then added gently, "The Face of Boe was right, Doctor: you're _not_ alone." God only knew what he might actually have meant, but right now that didn't seem to matter.

The Doctor's smile widened a little. _Maybe you don't have to spend the rest of your life with Companions; maybe you can spend the rest of your life coming_ back _to them—how have you not had this thought before?_ "Maybe not, yeah."

"And if you ever need us, my friend, for any reason..."

The Doctor nodded slowly. "I know where to come." He tilted his head and frowned inquiringly at Sherlock, sensing there was more that the detective wanted to say.

"Doctor... I'm sorry, I know it's a painful subject..." But Holmes simply couldn't shake the feeling that he and the Doctor needed to discuss the Valeyard further.

The Doctor tensed, fighting the urge to change the subject—he had a feeling he knew what Sherlock had on his mind. "Yes?"

Holmes drew a quiet breath. "What we were speaking of earlier... the Valeyard..."

The Doctor closed his eyes. "What about him?"

"I stand by what I said to Moriarty at the beginning of my..." Holmes smiled mirthlessly; "apprenticeship. The Valeyard is only one possible future. If you truly believed that you must become him, you would not continue to fight as hard as you do against the dark."

The Doctor opened his eyes and sighed. "That's only the gap between my head and my heart, Holmes. In my heart, I _can't_ stop fighting... but my head can't ignore the facts. Once you see your own personal future... you can't change it, you can't rewrite it. You fulfill it, no matter what you do. That's just the way Time works—trust me, I know. I can't tell you how many times I've met future versions of me... and didn't like them. Still happened." He shook his head. "Maybe all my fears are for nothing and he'll end up a separate being from me, like a clone, but I think it's more likely that I'll regenerate into him. The Time Lord High Council could do that much, influence regeneration..."

Holmes could only listen in horrified sympathy. " _They forced a regeneration on me and exiled me to Earth."_ And despite having seen for himself the Doctor's previous incarnation, the detective was nowhere near ready to say farewell to this one yet.

The Doctor shuddered and dragged his hands down his face. "Someday, I'm going to be a greater monster than Moriarty ever was..." His stance shifted, tone turning deadly serious as he lowered his hands. "The Valeyard _is_ real. And if you ever meet him... meet me... like that... I want you to shoot me. Make me regenerate. Don't hesitate; just do it."

Holmes met the Time Lord's gaze steadily, giving him a long, considering look. Finally, he nodded slowly. "Moriarty told me once that you never carry weapons... because that's what _we_ are for, your Companions." His brow furrowed. "I think he was wrong, at least in part. We Children of Time, we are weapons... but ones that you fashion against yourself. You want us to be strong enough to stop you."

The Doctor's face twisted at the thought of that. "You were already strong enough, and you are _not_ weapons. They don't heal; they only destroy. The strength to stop me... I want to come from right there." He pointed at Sherlock's chest. "If you can kill me, I want you to do it because you want to bring the _real_ me back. Because, let me tell you, if I regenerate... and I'm myself again... the first thing I'll try to do is finish myself for good." He already bore so much weight from the Time War and the end of the Time War... he couldn't bear thinking about the weight of what the Valeyard would do...

Holmes met the Doctor's gaze solemnly. "Then I promise to do all I can to stop you, Doctor, on both counts – as would any of your family." Blinking back tears, the Doctor stepped forward and wrapped his arms again around the detective, holding on tightly. "He shall not prevail, Doctor..." Holmes murmured, returning the hug. "We will bring you back." _Ah, hello? Excuse_ me _, do you have the_ least _idea of what you've just promised?! Yes. Oh... right then – I'll just, er... You do that._

The Doctor took a shuddering breath, nodding jerkily. After a beat, he let go and stepped back, murmuring, "Thank you."

"However, Doctor, we cannot do it without you. The choice to return is ultimately one which only you can make." Holmes couldn't forget that even after Beth had told him about Mycroft, he had still intended to kill himself – he might never completely understand how she had persuaded him to throw in his lot with her. "Promise us you will never give up hope entirely, if only for the sake of your children."

The Doctor winced, hesitated, then said, "I can try." He closed his eyes, visualising his other Companions—Watson with his easy smile and open heart, Sally with her intelligence and her sweetness, Beth with her fire and her kindness. "You are all so very worth it..." He opened his eyes and gave a despairing laugh, running a hand through his hair. "That burns it: I'm old." Some of his younger selves would have been taken aback at all this open sentimentality. "I am so old..."

Holmes arched a teasing eyebrow. "If you're expecting me to argue with you, my dear Doctor, you shall be waiting a very long time."

The Doctor laughed more genuinely—there was the wit he knew and loved. "Does Beth have as big a wicked streak as you do?"

"Oh, far worse, I'm afraid."

The Doctor echoed Sherlock's grin. "Good for her."

* * *

Beth and Sally were pulling their willing menfolk through the TARDIS corridors. Beth kept giggling at the thought of what they were about to do. _Not to mention how ridiculous you must look right now, and the idea of your boys in a karaoke bar, of all places._ Sherlock Holmes _in a karaoke bar! ...well, it's not like_ he's _going to be singing!_

Sally couldn't help laughing, too, her friend's merriment infectious. "Oh my god, Beth, _stop!_ "

"I can't help it!"

Watson and Holmes shared an intrigued and sympathetic grin. The girls had all but kidnapped them without a word as to what their plan was, and Watson was fairly certain Holmes hadn't been able to deduce any more than he had, which was nothing. Watson looked down at his daughter and murmured, "I don't suppose _you_ know what your ma's up to, young lady?" Kathy merely smiled up at him.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure she always knows."

Holmes suddenly chuckled as Beth nodded enthusiastically, Watson eyeing them both with suspicion. "And you complained about _me_ deducing your activities! Just wait till you start buying Katherine presents..."

Sally groaned, shaking her head. So much for any hopes of their daughter believing in Father Christmas!

Beth giggled again, unable to stop herself and not really wanting to. They paused before a cracked-open door, which opened completely for them, and entered a cocktail lounge, where all of the Irregulars, plus George and Nikola, were milling about in front of the karaoke stage. Will and the Doctor were setting up microphones; Will looked up and grinned broadly at the newcomers, and Beth grinned back. _This is gonna be so much fun_.

Holmes blinked, then his eyes widened as he recognised the place. "Oh no..."

Watson reached out and snagged his friend's arm before he could retreat. "Don't even think about it, Holmes." Ignoring the man's pleading look, Watson nudged him encouragingly. "Come on, old chap. You never know, you might even enjoy yourself!" _He_ certainly wouldn't mind hearing Sally's voice on a microphone, or hearing the boys sing (caroling was always enjoyable)... and he was fairly certain that Beth had a good singing voice of her own.

Beth grabbed Sherlock's other arm and steered him to a seat. "You'll love it, _promise_. The boys need to show you the songs they picked up from the future." She grinned unashamedly.

Holmes sighed, starting to smile again faintly – he would never be a match for Beth's cajoling, and the boys all looked so excited. "Very well, then."

Beth beamed, then moved over to Will, who was fiddling with one of the mics.

"So this's wot yew were mimickin'?" Will asked, tapping the mesh, then winced at the sharp squeal of protest from the speakers.

Beth flinched and laughed. "Nice. Yeah."

"You two are starting us out, right?" Sally asked.

"We'll try," Will said, eyeing the mic warily.

Holding Kathy, Watson found a seat near George and Nikola, Nikola studying the karaoke machine with great curiosity. Watson grinned at George. "You may have to hold him back from dissecting that thing later."

The Doctor chuckled as he finished ensuring that the sound system was ready.

Nikola shook his head regretfully. "The Doctor made me promise not to copy anyone else's work from the next century."

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. "Weeell, it _would_ be a little awkward."

Sally looked up in dismay. "Not even for private commissions?" She gave the Doctor a pleading look. "Like a washing and drying machine? Simple stuff?" It'd make Victorian life _so_ much easier, and Mrs. Hudson would be over the moon!

Beth looked over at Sally. "Nikola can make laundry machines?" It would be awesome if he could—she _hated_ doing laundry without any machines!

"I'm pretty sure he can make _anything_."

Nikola blushed, flattered. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, ladies – but even if that were the case, a secret like that wouldn't remain secret for very long." He'd give it a month at the outside.

Beth pouted. "Darn it." Sally just sighed heavily.

Will looked out over the crowd of boys. "Oi, are yew lot ready?"

The boys called back enthusiastically. But Beth turned to Will, fighting to keep her face deadpan, and said, "I didn't hear anything—did you hear anything?" Will bit back a grin and shook his head—she'd teased the boys this way before. The response this time was a shouted chorus of _yes_ 's. Even John joined in, chuckling. Beth laughed, looked up at the ceiling, and nodded.

Will signalled the boys, who started to stomp and clamp out the opening beat to 'It's Time', and then the music started on the machine.

Holmes was pleasantly surprised to find his misgivings had been unfounded. The opening music was really quite melodious by any era's standards, the boys had clearly been practising, and everyone else looked to be enjoying themselves, especially Beth... Then he laughed silently at himself when he realised his fingers had unconsciously begun tapping – disarmed at a stroke!

 _So this is what you meant  
when you said that you were spent  
and now it's time to build from the bottom of the pit  
right to the top  
don't hold back  
packing my bags and giving the academy a rain-check_

The Doctor beamed as he watched. The kids were really good and they were throwing themselves heart and soul into the music—especially Beth. He'd rarely seen her so _alive_.

 _I don't ever wanna let you down  
I don't ever wanna leave this town  
cause after all  
_ _this city never sleeps at night_

Beth and Will alternated lines, the rest of the Irregulars joining in at the chorus. Just now, Beth existed purely in the music, sometimes gesturing, sometimes clapping in unison with the other boys, but always joyously carried away in the song.

Watson bounced Kathy lightly on his knee—of his formerly bad leg. On the second verse, he began to hum along, caught up in the rhythm of the music and the energy of the singers. Sally clapped along, too, happy to sit on the sidelines for this one, though joining in on the choruses.

 _It's time to begin  
isn't it?  
I get a little bit  
bigger but then  
I'll admit  
I'm just the same as I was  
now don't you understand  
that I'm never changing who I am?_

Beth and Will finished the song among the cheers of the Irregulars, joined by the four men in the audience applauding enthusiastically. Watson gave Holmes a grin of 'told you so.'

The performers grinned and bowed to the audience, but even before the applause had died down, Will set off on the opening lines of 'Counting Stars', he and Beth alternating lines again.

 _Lately, I've been, I've been losing sleep  
dreaming about the things that we could be  
but baby, I've been, I've been praying hard  
said no more counting dollars  
we'll be counting stars..._

Watson waited until the song was finished and the next round of applause was dying down. Then he nudged Sally, smiling hopefully.

Sally smiled back, nodding, and approached the stage. She'd always loved Sarah McLachlan's 'Angel', and just this once, she wouldn't have to compete with someone else's voice...

 _Spend all your time waiting  
for that second chance  
for a break that would make it okay  
there's always some reason  
to feel not good enough  
and it's hard at the end of the day  
I need some distraction  
oh beautiful release  
memories seep from my veins  
let me be empty  
and weightless and maybe  
I'll find some peace tonight_

Watson sat enraptured, eyes shining. He'd heard his wife sing to their daughter before, but this was truly a heavenly moment. Sally's voice was so sweet and rich and clear...

She finished amidst applause, and Beth and Will returned to the floor. They'd agreed to sing one particular song together, one that they had sung many times before at Rosewood. They had thrown one or two small changes to the lyrics that made no sense for the song itself but had made every bit of sense for them, in the life they had lived together during Frozen Time. Beth started, and Sally and Will followed.

 _Oh, misty eye of the mountain below  
Keep careful watch of my brothers' souls  
And should the sky be filled with fire and smoke  
Keep watching over London's sons_

 _If this is to end in fire_  
 _Then we should all burn together_  
 _Watch the flames climb high into the night_  
 _Calling out father, oh, stand by and we will_  
 _Watch the flames burn auburn on_  
 _The mountain side_

The trio were crooning the song but with as much heart and soul as they'd done previously, and it brought tears to Watson's eyes. This was a song of a people living in a war, and that was what Sally and Beth and Will had done.

There was a lump in Nikola's throat, too, as he listened. He had done what little he could to help his friends heal after everything they'd been through, but he was profoundly relieved to see that Sally and Beth had once again found their own way forward – he could leave with the Doctor tomorrow, knowing that all would be well.

When the song came to an end, the telepath decided that the mood could do with lightening again, and pushed George towards the stage, amid groans from the Irregulars.

"Now, now," Watson told the boys sternly—"be polite."

The boys snickered. "Yew ain't 'eard 'im yet!" said Charlie.

George shrugged good-naturedly—he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket and he knew it, but he understood Nikola was pushing for a little more levity, and he didn't mind obliging. He'd tortured the lads with his so-called singing voice more than once at Rosewood...

 _There's a little side street, such as often you meet,  
Where the boys of a Sunday night rally  
Tho' it's not very wide, and it's dismal beside,  
Yet they call the place Paradise Alley_

 _But a maiden so sweet lives in that little street_  
 _She's the daughter of Widow McNally_  
 _She has bright golden hair and the boys all declare_  
 _She's the sunshine of Paradise Alley_

 _Every Sunday, down to her home we go_  
 _All the boys and all the girls, they love her so_  
 _Always jolly, heart that is true, I know_  
 _She is the Sunshine of Paradise Alley_

In the midst of the chorus, the boos started. Beth and Sally were laughing too hard to join in. Grinning, George returned to his seat, blowing kisses to the crowd, entirely pleased with himself.

Beth noticed that the Doctor was also laughing merrily—noticed because it was the first time in a very long time she'd heard that sound. "Doctor, what about you?" she called.

"Oh, no," the Doctor protested, grinning, "no, no..."

Beth and Sally had the idea at the same time, starting to chant, "Doc-tor! Doc-tor!" And the Irregulars joined in.

The Doctor groaned and put his face in his hands. Other versions of him would have been delighted at the attention but this one didn't quite have the same priorities...

Holmes and Watson exchanged evil grins, then stood up and hauled the Doctor up to the stage.

"Oi!" the Doctor cried indignantly.

Watson merely laughed. "If we have to sing, Doctor, so do you!"

Holmes arched a suspicious eyebrow. "Who's 'we', hm?"

Beth smiled delightedly at him. "We could do a duet!"

The Doctor laughed, still hiding his face. It was sweet to want everybody to have a shot, but he just knew he'd embarrass himself.

Holmes heaved another sigh, then nodded, secretly gratified. He gave the Doctor an encouraging smile – if he could do it, so could the Time Lord.

Before the microphone, the Doctor sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of an appropriate song. Then he snapped his fingers and looked up. Here was something Sally and maybe Beth would know... they still listened to Queen in the late 21st century...

 _Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time  
I feel alive and the world I'll turn it inside out, yeah  
And floating around in ecstasy  
So don't stop me now, don't stop me  
'Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time_

 _I'm a shooting star leaping through the sky  
Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity  
I'm a racing car passing by like Lady Godiva  
I'm gonna go go go  
There's no stopping me_

 _I'm burnin' through the sky yeah  
Two hundred degrees  
That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit  
I'm traveling at the speed of light  
I wanna make a supersonic man out of you_

The Doctor finished amid loud applause, loudest from a cheering Beth and Sally. Grinning, he made a sweeping bow and, as he returned to his seat, gave Beth a questioning look. She nodded and stepped back up alone to the microphone to sing solo. This song meant a lot to her; she couldn't always sing it and _mean_ it, but tonight, she definitely could.

 _Like a small boat  
On the ocean  
Sending big waves  
Into motion  
Like how a single word  
Can make a heart open  
I might only have one match  
But I can make an explosion_

 _And all those things I didn't say  
Wrecking balls inside my brain  
I will scream them loud tonight  
Can you hear my voice this time?_

 _This is my fight song  
Take-back-my life song  
Prove-I'm-all-right song  
My power's turned on  
Starting right now I'll be strong  
I'll play my fight song  
And I don't really care if nobody else believes  
'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me_

If there had ever been a prouder moment in Holmes's life than this, he couldn't remember it. Of all the times he'd heard Beth sing, solo or accompanied, he'd never seen her so abandoned before, losing herself in the music, all but shouting out the song at the top of her voice. Dear heaven, she was _magnificent_.

Beth breathlessly finished amongst thunderous applause, the Irregulars whistling and cheering. But she only had eyes for her husband—the look in _his_ eyes... Beaming, she beckoned to him to join her at the mic.

 _You promised her a duet, remember? No backing out now..._ Holmes squared his shoulders and came forward, thankful that the TARDIS was certain to have something he was familiar with, at least.

Beth practically squealed with excitement as he joined her. She took him back a step from the microphone and spoke away from it. "Okay, sorry, probably should have asked sooner: what could we do?"

Holmes was still wracking his brain on that very subject. He hadn't paid much attention to the popular music of Beth's time, and he couldn't think of any duets from his time that she would know that wasn't from opera or similar, and Gilbert and Sullivan was out of the question, although he had secretly found certain parts of _The Mikado_ amusing... and then the TARDIS chirped, flashing a suggestion up on the karaoke screen. "Nat Cole? Really?"

"Nat _King_ Cole," Beth corrected automatically. "Have you heard some of his songs? There's one song he does that makes a good duet: 'Unforgettable.'"

Holmes nodded. "That one did come up on the radio a few times in '69 –" The Doctor's ability to predict when his favourite songs would be aired had been uncanny. "I _think_ I can blunder through it all right."

She laughed. "It's karaoke, honey. Nobody's gonna throw fruit at you if you mess up. Point is to have fun." She held out her hand.

He took it, smiling. "All right..." then couldn't resist murmuring innocently, "How do you feel about vaudeville hooks?"

It took her a second to remember what those were, and then she gave him a Look, sighed, and shook her head. "Impossible," she muttered, and turned back to the audience. The opening piano notes of the song started, and Beth began to sing in a slightly deeper voice than she had thus far to sing in-key:

 _Unforgettable  
That's what you are  
Unforgettable  
Though near or far_

She turned to her husband and smiled.

 _Like a song of love that clings to me  
How the thought of you does things to me  
Never before  
Has someone been more..._

 _Your cue, old chap..._ Holmes leaned in towards the microphone, making an effort to sing at the same pace as Beth, this song was much more sedate than he was accustomed to:

 _Unforgettable  
In every way  
And forevermore  
That's how you'll stay_

 _That's why, darling,  
It's incredible  
That someone so  
Unforgettable  
Thinks that I am  
Unforgettable, too..._

Beth stayed silent as Sherlock sang, letting him sing to her, her heart melting. She loved him so, so much...

She hummed with the interlude, swaying slowly in time with the music, smiling softly at her husband. Then she began to sing again, repeating Sherlock's part, and motioned for him to join her. As they crooned the very last lines together, she circled her arms around his waist, still smiling, her heart in her eyes.

Holmes smiled foolishly back at her as the last notes died away, whispering, "I love you..." He'd completely forgotten how close they were to the microphone until he was reminded by their audience hooting and whistling.

Blushing a little, Beth grinned, leaned up, and kissed him, then took him by the hand back to the chairs with her. They'd no sooner left the stage when a group of the younger boys scrambled up there and grabbed the microphone.

"Yer know any music 'all, mum?" Nat asked the ceiling with a grin. The TARDIS twittered in amusement, and struck up the band.

 _Just a week or two ago, my poor old Uncle Bill  
Went and kicked the bucket and he left me in his will.  
The other day I popped around to see poor Auntie Jane.  
She said, "Your Uncle Bill has left to you a watch and chain."  
So I put it on right across my vest_

 _I thought I looked a dandy as it dangled on my chest  
Just to flash it off I started walking round about.  
A lot of kiddies followed me and all began to shout,_

" _Any old iron? Any old iron?  
Any, any, any old iron?  
You look neat. Talk about a treat!  
You look dapper from your napper to your feet.  
Dressed in style, brand-new tile,  
And your father's old green tie on.  
But I wouldn't give you tuppence for your old watch and chain,  
Old iron, old iron!"_

The audience applauded enthusiastically, Beth whooping as she clapped. Some of the boys took exaggerated bows as they left the stage, prompting laughter from the adults.

Sally suddenly remembered that there was someone who hadn't had a turn at all yet. She turned to John with a hopeful smile, holding out her arms for Kathy. He'd never really sung just for her before, and she wanted that so much...

Watson sighed. Well, if Holmes could do it, so could he. Besides, the look that Sally was giving him... no, he certainly couldn't refuse her anything anymore... Smiling ruefully, he shifted the baby into Sally's arms and stood. The Irregulars immediately cheered, and he spread his hands in defeat. "I don't know what you think you're going to get," he told them.

As he reached the microphone, he was still searching his mind for an appropriate song... when the TARDIS struck up a tune. _Ah, of course_. A familiar song, from the 1940s or '50s, if he remembered correctly...

 _If I didn't care, more than words can say  
If I didn't care, would I feel this way?  
If this isn't love, then why do I thrill?  
And what makes my head go 'round and 'round  
While my heart stands still?_

He smiled at his wife, keeping his eyes fixed on her, singing for her and her alone, at once a love letter and an apology. Poor darling, wondering, once, if he had ever cared about her at all...

 _If I didn't care, would it be the same?  
Would my ev'ry prayer begin and end with just your name?  
And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare?  
Would all this be true if I didn't care for you?_

Sally was blinking hard – for a moment she was back on the London stage, John's arms around her as he told her again how much he'd missed her in the space of a few minutes, asking her to be his forever... _"Because I think I've known, from the moment we ran into each other... that home is wherever you are."_ Impulsively, she stood with Kathy still in her arms and came forward to finish the song with him:

 _If I didn't care, would it be the same?  
Would my ev'ry prayer begin and end with just your name?  
And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare?  
Would all this be true if I didn't care for you?_

Watson blinked back a tear or two of his own as Sally joined in. As the last note died away, he decided he could follow Beth's precedent, and kissed Sally tenderly. She wrapped her free arm around him and kissed him back, smiling as the Irregulars whooped and whistled, and their daughter cooed, sounding intrigued.

 _Squashing faces..._

 _It's a human thing, little one,_ the TARDIS bleeped affectionately. _You'll understand when you're older._

* * *

After the show, Beth and Sherlock stole away to the kitchen, Sherlock luring her with the promise of hot chocolate. As they entered the chrome-plated kitchen, advanced beyond anything even Beth had ever seen, she played with her hair and smiled to herself, still hearing her husband's voice singing in her head. "Have I ever told you... that you have a gorgeous voice?" A small, silly part of her had been very glad to discover that the real Sherlock Holmes both looked and sounded like her favorite version of him.

He nodded, turning faintly pink, unable to hide a smile. "Frequently – but I don't mind you telling me again."

Grinning back—she loved being able to make _him_ blush—she linked her arm with his, hugging it to her. "You really are so _terribly_ susceptible to flattery." And she loved _that_ , too; it was absolutely adorable.

He gave her an offended look. "I resent that accusation –" leaning in to kiss her; "however accurate it may be."

She returned the kiss, then pulled back with a radiant smile. "Come on, you. Show me where the hot chocolate is."

He tracked down the necessary ingredients, which included real dark chocolate, while Beth perched on the countertop, swinging her legs and watching. "This, my dear, is how hot chocolate ought to be done. Whoever invented that powdered rubbish should be hanged for treason."

She laughed and shook her head. "Don't be a snob—and don't call me 'my dear': it's too generic." She'd be perfectly happy if she never heard those words together again... "And I happen to _like_ that 'powdered rubbish.'" She grinned unrepentantly. Powdered hot chocolate was just fine after tramping through snow in Michigan winters.

Holmes arched a challenging eyebrow. "You can call me a snob, love, _after_ you've tried the real thing." He set the saucepan of water and milk on the stove to heat and began chopping the block of chocolate up finely.

Still grinning, she narrowed her eyes. "Will do."

He put down the knife and turned back to where she sat, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Generic, really?"

She tilted her head, trying to think of how to explain without ruining the mood. "Weeeeeell… yeah, kind of… I mean, _lots_ of people have called me 'my dear'." She reached up and ran her fingers through his silky hair. "Most of them," she said softly, "not at all the right people."

His eyes widened. "Oh." _Stupid, stupid..._ "I'm so sorry, Beth, I never thought..."

She shook her head quickly. "No, shh, it's fine." She leaned forward and nuzzled him gently. "But I much prefer all the other things you call me..."

He nuzzled back, relieved. "Such as?"

She smiled. "Well, darling, and dearest, and sweetheart, and love..."

He rested his forehead on hers, breathing, "Sunshine... _cherie_... _mon amour_..." _Good grief, I may be ill... Oh, shut up._

Sally entered the kitchen briskly, intending to get herself a drink before settling down for the night, and stopped short at the sight of the Holmeses looking fairly amorous on the far side of the kitchen. She made a small noise of surprise, blushed, and turned to go.

Beth's head snapped up and she blushed herself at seeing her friend. "Sally, wait, it's okay! Don't go!"

Sally turned back in embarrassment. "Sorry, I was just getting a glass of water!"

Holmes let go of Beth, his own face more than a little pink. "Well, would you care for a hot chocolate? We've plenty." He turned back to the stove to stir the boiling milk and turn down the heat.

"Um, sure." Well, miracles never did cease—but then, Sally had to remind herself, this was the Sherlock Holmes that Beth had fallen in love with, the man she had always believed him to be. "Hot chocolate would be great, thanks." She came closer and leaned against the table opposite Beth on the counter.

"It's _pure_ chocolate," the younger girl said teasingly, "not the 'powdered rubbish.'"

Sally laughed. "Sounds fantastic. Have _you_ ever had pure hot chocolate before?" Beth shook her head. Sally sighed happily at the memories. "Oh, it's great. My gran used to make it every once in a while when I was a kid."

Holmes hummed in approval, whisking chocolate pieces into the creamy foam, nostrils flaring at the delicious smell that was beginning to fill the kitchen. He poured out three cups carefully, garnished them with a swirl of whipped cream, and lastly a sprinkle of cinnamon. " _Et voil_ _à_ _._ "

Beth eyed her mug in mock suspicion—though it did look and smell _amazing_. "We shouldn't be at all worried about this? One hundred percent legit?" That made Sally giggle.

"You don't trust me, I'm hurt." He shrugged innocently, reaching for Beth's cup. "Well, if you don't want it, more for everyone else."

Beth made a noise that wasn't quite a yelp and pulled the mug away from him. "Mine."

Sally grinned. "Children, behave."

"Yes, Mom," Beth smirked, and Sally rolled her eyes. Beth took a careful sip, then hummed in bliss. "That is _lovely_."

Sally followed suit. "Mm-hmm." She looked up and gave Sherlock a small, shy smile. "Thank you."

Holmes smiled back, blushing faintly. "Don't mention it." And then Beth caught his eye, looking meaningfully at Sally. _Er, perhaps... this might be a good moment...? ...yes... I suppose it is._ He gave Beth a slight nod under cover of taking a sip, then nervously cleared his throat – this would be awkward enough even without an audience! "Sally... Beth told me of how you cared for the younger Irregulars during my... my absence. I owe you a great debt... and... an even greater apology." He could feel his face rapidly going from pink to scarlet, though Beth had mercifully taken a keen interest in her hot chocolate for the moment.

Sally's eyes widened. "Well," she started slowly, softly, "taking care of the boys _was_ my pleasure. Sort of. Kind of. Not always." She blushed again and averted her gaze—so much for all the things she'd wanted to say to Sherlock during Frozen Time!

"They can be little Dickenses," Beth muttered to her cup.

Sally nodded. "Yeah."

A silent huff of laughter escaped Holmes, suddenly feeling a good deal less nervous. "Indeed." He sobered slightly. "As was I. Sally, I deeply regret that I did not see..." _Now, now, be honest – you should have said this to Mary long ago._ "That I refused to see before how happy you and Watson have made each other. Can you forgive me... for the selfish way I have treated the two of you?" _The three of you..._

Sally looked back at him, studying him for a moment. Yes, she could see why Beth had fallen in love with him... and why John had become friends with him. There was a regret in his eyes that ran even deeper, she thought, than for his behaviour before. _Maybe... maybe he's speaking to Mary, too._ Sally nodded. "You really _were_ awful," she said quietly, dryly. Then her voice softened. "But you're not anymore. Yes, I do forgive you."

Beth looked up then, smiling, relieved that this conversation was not as painful as the one between her and John had been.

"Thank you. And may I also offer my sincerest, if somewhat belated, congratulations?" _For the wedding or the birth? Well, both, of course!_

Sally returned his smile. "And the same to you. Ah, actually..." _No time like the present_. "John and I were talking, and, well... we would really love for you and Beth to be Kathy's godparents."

Holmes's eyes widened, speechless, just as Watson entered, Kathy fussing in his arms. The doctor's harassed expression turned to a grin on seeing the detective's dumbfounded one. "I gather you've asked him, then?"

Holmes somehow managed to collect himself enough to stammer out, "It would be an honour, dear lady." _Now note that Beth doesn't seem in the least taken aback..._ His wife was grinning like the Cheshire Cat – how long had _she_ known?

Sally's smile widened, then she decided to act on impulse and hugged him. "Thank you."

Startled for a moment, Holmes quickly recovered and put his arms around her. "Thank _you_ , Sally – for everything." _"I think our womenfolk are the real heroes, eh?" They are indeed..._

"You are very, _very_ welcome... Sherlock."

Holmes blinked – he couldn't remember Sally ever using his given name before – but neither did it sound as incongruous coming from her as he'd expected.

Watson came forward, holding the baby so she could see. "Kathy, dear," he murmured cheerfully, "this is your godfather. Say hello."

Sally smiled at her baby, then looked up, caught Beth's eye, and jerked her head in invitation. Beth came down from the counter, and Sally reached out to wrap her arm around the other girl's waist and pull her close. It was habit by now, this—holding and hugging each other at basically any given opportunity, and right now was certainly a family moment.

Holmes tentatively reached out to Kathy and touched her hand with a forefinger. She was so tiny... "Hello, little one..."

Sally's heart melted at the smile that crept over Sherlock's face. _The Great Detective is_ definitely _a big softie at heart_. "Would you like to hold her?"

Holmes hesitated, not greatly reassured by Watson's nod of invitation. The doctor's eyes were as wide as his own, and he'd never actually _held_ an infant in his life!

Sally almost laughed. "Sherlock, if a nine-year-old can hold her without breaking her, _you_ can, too."

Beth did laugh, softly, and gave him an encouraging nod.

"Nothing else for it, Holmes," Watson grinned – even Kathy was looking expectant. "The ladies insist."

Holmes grinned back sheepishly. "Well, faced with such overwhelming odds..."

Watson chuckled, his friend was finally getting the idea. "All right, hold out your arms." He nudged Holmes's arms into the right position, then carefully shifted the baby into his hold.

Beth watched, transfixed—with a baby in his arms, her husband suddenly looked very much like a father. He cradled Kathy gingerly at first, then relaxed slowly, starting to rock her just a little. In the short time that Beth and Sherlock had been married, the subject of having children had never really come up between them, except for that one moment after the showdown at Torchwood. Since then, she wasn't entirely sure she even _wanted_ children... but, right now... right now, her chest was aching.

"Beth, look..." Holmes breathed, gazing down at his goddaughter in wonder. "She's smiling at me..."

Beth and Sally were both blinking back suspicious moisture. "I see," Beth murmured. She reached out and brushed her fingers against the baby's soft, warm cheek.

Kathy just kept smiling a contented little smile, studying Holmes intently with dark blue eyes that would someday turn hazel.

"You see?" her father said softly at Holmes's shoulder. "She already adores you."

"My youngest fan," Holmes smiled mistily, making Watson chuckle. "Heaven help me." He raised Kathy a little higher and murmured tenderly, "Yes, little one, it's nice to meet you, too..."

Beth moved to stand beside Sherlock and wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning on his shoulder. Kathy's eyelids were starting to droop, the little sweetheart...

"Someone looks sleepy," Sally murmured.

"Finally," Watson sighed. He was sure Kathy already knew the Doctor was leaving tomorrow; she'd certainly seemed determined to stay awake as long as possible, as if making the most of the little time they had left on the ship.

Still rocking Kathy, Holmes started to hum some Mendelssohn very softly, trying not to look smug.

* * *

 **Ria:** *hugs the Doctor* Who else can't wait to see what the show does with the Valeyard? Personally, I don't think it would be difficult for the Time Lords to have taken something from the Doctor during one or every regeneration, it's not like he would have noticed.

Right, updates! Sit back and enjoy, because we'll soon be concluding not one, but _two_ minisodes! Next after that will be chapter 13 and, _finally_ , the very last chapter of 'Together'... Fear not, it's not the end of this story, still a few more loose ends to tie up! If you're very lucky, we might even get the Christmas episode finished by next Christmas... ;D

And just to avoid any legal tangles, our karaoke playlist:

It's Time – Imagine Dragons

Counting Stars – OneRepublic

Angel – Sarah MacLachlan

I See Fire – Ed Sheeran

Sunshine of Paradise Alley – Bradley Kincaid

Don't Stop Me Now – Queen

Fight Song – Rachel Platten

Unforgettable – Nat King Cole

Any Old Iron – Harry Champion

If I Didn't Care – The Ink Spots


	13. No Place Like Home

**==Chapter 13==**

 **No Place Like Home**

" _I know I have a heart because I feel it breaking."_

– The Wizard of Oz

Both families had retired to their TARDIS rooms for the night, one last night aboard the grand old lady. Ensconced in her bedroom with Sherlock, Beth pulled a Victorian nightgown from the dresser and began to undress. "Y'know, you and Kathy looked really adorable together." Her heart had melted so thoroughly into a puddle that she didn't know when it would be solid again.

Holmes sat on the bed to take off his shoes, blushing, still a bit wide-eyed about the whole affair. "And thank you for the advance notice."

She paused. "Huh?"

He got up and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "I suppose you're going to tell me Sally swore you to secrecy?"

"Ohhh." She leaned back in his hold; with her ear almost against his chest, she could hear his heartbeat and she loved that. "Yes, as a matter of fact."

He kissed her hair, humming contentedly. "Whatever am I going to do with you, O scheming woman of mine?"

Ooo, she liked that very much. She twisted around a little and smiled archly at him. "I can think of a few things..."

"Oh?" he murmured in her ear, pulse quickening, and brushed his lips across her cheek.

"Mm... mm-hmm…" She took a moment to recollect her scattering thoughts, and turned further to nuzzle his throat. "Laying me… on the bed… and kissing me senseless… for one…"

Holmes crooned, thrilling at the touch. "Your wish is my command, cherie..." He gathered her up and carried her to the bed.

Beth smiled widely. "Whatever happened to the Sherlock who did nothing but argue with me all the time?"

He chuckled quietly, laying her down. "I believe he's mostly retired – although I'm sure he could make a comeback for a worthwhile cause." It _had_ been a while since their last fight, the next one was likely to be a real humdinger.

She giggled and reached up to stroke his cheek. "C'mere, you," she murmured, puckering her lips slightly in invitation.

Smiling at her touch, he joined her on the bed, kissing her tenderly. "I love you..."

She wrapped her arms around him. "I love you, too… my beautiful Sherlock..."

" _Ma chere femme_..." He kissed her again softly, brushing her hair away from her face. "Is something wrong, dearest?"

She frowned slightly. "Why do you ask?"

"Hm, well, you've been looking a bit preoccupied." He kissed the tip of her nose in reassurance. _You can tell me anything, love._

She colored slightly. "I, um, not…" She bit her lip— _how can I explain when what I'm feeling is so tangled that even I don't understand it?_ "...you really did look adorable," she said softly, "holding Kathy..."

"Ah." And now it was Holmes's turn to look uncertain.

Beth averted her gaze. "Sherlock, I just... I do want to have children of our own, someday." _"Dear me, twenty years... and I assume that you and your husband are planning to have a family at some stage?"_ "...and also, I don't."

He stroked her hair in silent sympathy. Moriarty had been terribly cruel... _And if he hadn't? What would your answer have been then?_ Despite his experience with the Irregulars, raising an actual family would be vastly different, he knew that much... _but it's more than just that for you, too, isn't it?_

She didn't look up, closing her eyes instead and leaning into his touch. So gentle and soothing... _"And you may well be correct... perhaps the end cannot truly justify the means... but it is no doubt far easier to make such a judgement when you do not have to live with the alternative." ...but I still want a family..._

"It's... it's not that I don't wish for a family, love, please don't think that... I just..." He sighed. "I simply have my doubts about what kind of a father I would make..."

 _Oh, Sherlock..._ She opened her eyes and looked up, starting to rub his back soothingly. "What kind of father _do_ you think you'd make, sweetheart?"

He rested his forehead on hers, his wife's touch helping him to relax a little. "I don't know..." His tone grew faintly bitter: "The only hope I've ever held on that score was not to take after my own."

Her chest aching, she tightened her hold on him a bit. "The Irregulars think you've been a good dad." And they had missed him so terribly much...

A faint flush crept back into Holmes's cheeks. "Well... that's not quite the same thing..."

She tilted her head. "I think they'd beg to differ, but, honestly, honey, do you think anybody gets it right, right off the bat? Bet you anything that parenting is going to be as much of a learning curve for John and Sally as it is for anybody. " Her tone softening further, she added, "And I think you'd make a great father."

He blinked, blush deepening. "Thank you..." _Hm, you still don't seem very convinced..._ He pushed the thought aside and kissed Beth softly. "I'm sorry if I seemed adverse to the idea, Beth – I've just always had difficulty picturing myself as a parent before." And he didn't imagine it would get much easier before having the actual role thrust upon him.

"I know…" She kissed him back. "I know…" She nuzzled him, then sighed. "Seriously, though, there _is_ going to be a consequence to... _all this_... someday."

He nuzzled her back. "Well, for all we know, there could already be..." _And don't forget, you've already gone to bed together here... Oh... oh dear..._

"Mm, I doubt it… Too, too much stress..." Not that it was impossible, she knew better than that, but it was still extremely unlikely. Even in the midst of the honeymoon stretch of their hiatus, Beth had been under considerable stress, trying to figure out a way to convince Sherlock to go home, or, failing that, move forward before Moran caught up with them. _So much for that_... She stretched a bit, and reached up to stroke his hair.

"Just as well, I should think – Kit's going to be enough of a handful for all of us, to begin with."

Beth smiled wistfully. "Probably… Wait…" She frowned as she realized exactly what he just said. "'Kit'?"

His eyes widened as he realised. "Oh, Lord... I'm sorry, Beth, has no one told you yet?" Damn, he'd hoped he wouldn't have to revisit that memory too often.

She sighed. "Told me what?"

"It's rather a long story." How best to explain... "Well... I suppose you've heard how when we first met Sally, it wasn't the first time she'd met us?"

Beth nodded. She hadn't heard the full story, though, until her extended stay at Rosewood, after her run-in with Moran. It turned out that murderous statues had been just the thing to banish memories of a lecherous colonel, at least for a little while. Beth had been jumpy around the angel statues around London ever since.

"Well, Kathy takes after her mother, it seems – or maybe it's the other way around. " All these interlinking Time Loops, who could tell any more?

"What do you mean?"

"It was early days in the TARDIS for us – Watson hadn't even met Sally yet. The Doctor took a wrong turn on the way to the 21st century... and instead we landed at the Manhattan Project in 1945, the night of the first nuclear test." He would _never_ understand how someone had thought atomic weapons were a good idea.

Her eyes went wide. "Oh my gosh. What happened?"

"Well, needless to say, we didn't receive a warm welcome. General Groves thought the three of us might be Communist spies. We were only saved from interrogation by someone else stepping in and vouching for us." Holmes hesitated, then decided on the direct approach. "It was Kathy."

Beth's eyes widened further. "Kathy in the future, grown up..." Her baby goddaughter... on the scene of a development that would change warfare and international conflict forever...

He nodded, smiling. "She _looked_ to be in her mid-twenties, although we found out later she was around a hundred. Our arrival seemed to have taken her completely by surprise –" And thank heaven for that, he wouldn't have wanted her to have the least idea what was in store; "and of course, we hadn't any idea who she was, not even the Doctor!"

Beth shook her head, eyes still wide. "Holy cow… How do you know it was her, though?"

Holmes arched an eyebrow. "Well, I doubt there are many young women out there with Sally's hair, Watson's eyes... and the ability to heal using the Time Vortex. As you've no doubt guessed, our detour was... rather eventful."

Beth blinked. "Golly." What had happened that Kathy had used her healing power?

"Have... you ever heard of a certain alien race called the Daleks?"

Beth turned grave instantly, a chill running down her spine. "Yes." The Daleks were the number one recognized alien threat in her time.

"They were at Los Alamos, as well – just four of them, hiding in the lower tunnels. They'd been... abducting base personnel." Those poor people... Even those who'd known what their work would be used for hadn't deserved a fate like that...

Beth grimaced— _so this is another horror story, then._ "Lovely."

"I'm not certain why they were so few, but they were using the humans they'd stolen to create a _new_ race... Dalek-human hybrids... using the radiation from the bomb test to complete the process."

Beth shivered. "I take it you guys stopped them?"

"Not as such..." A sad smile crossed his face. Poor, brave Sec, who had only ever wanted the best for his people... "Their leader, Dalek Sec – he was a great believer in leading by example. He was the first to undergo the change, although altering his genetic structure had unforeseen consequences. All Sec originally wanted from our DNA was to acquire mankind's talent for warfare, but the more time he spent as a hybrid, the more his... well, humanity, for lack of a better word, asserted itself. Sadly, the other three didn't approve of his change of heart, and the Doctor lending his assistance was the final straw. They turned on Sec, tried to take over the project."

Beth winced but lay quietly, enthralled. Now that she was hearing this story, she did vaguely recall some scenes with the Daleks and Sherlock and John from that time the Doctor had shown her his memories...

"We managed to escape, however..." Holmes went on quietly; "all of us but Kathy, she was captured. We couldn't go back for her until we'd sabotaged the Daleks' machine – and that didn't exactly go to plan, either." He grimly clamped down on any memories that threatened to surface about fuse boxes and stairwells... "The best the Doctor could manage was to add his own DNA to the mix, giving the new hybrids the ability to turn against their creators."

Beth frowned—there was so much more that he _wasn't_ telling her, but she was also pretty sure that, this once, she really _didn't_ want to know. "What happened to them?"

He couldn't suppress a shudder as he remembered. "There was a battle... the Daleks were weakened, and they weren't prepared for a full-scale rebellion. Two of them were killed, but the last..." He blinked back the tears for a moment, then let them come – Sec had been a friend and he would be greatly missed. "Sec gave his own life to shield him."

She bit her lip and stroked his hair soothingly. It was the kind of story that would make a fantastic non-fiction book or movie, but a horrible experience to actually live through.

"'You are still my brother,' he said. 'Our children need you.'" Holmes sighed deeply. "But it wasn't enough – Jast escaped, teleported himself away, God only knows where... although that may have been the best thing for the Manhatians."

She smiled slightly at the name. "The Manhatians?"

"That's what Kit... Kathy named them. And the Doctor found them a new planet where they could start over." Just as their father had wanted...

"Wooow," Beth said softly. Somewhere out there in her own time was a race that was part-human, part-Dalek, and part-Time Lord, and that was crazy to think about.

"We even encountered one of their descendents on Polaris Seven," Holmes went on, smiling at the memory; he really must dig out those holoprojectors from the bazaar to show Beth. "They hadn't merely survived, they were thriving."

She beamed, eyes shining. "Wow. That is _so_ cool."

"Their home world's amazing, Beth." The dome-shaped houses had been a shock to the senses at first, looking like nothing so much as a Dalek shell... but the Manhatians themselves couldn't have been more welcoming, especially Tarm's family. "I'd love to take you there someday." And now, of course, he _could_ , once the Doctor delivered on his promise.

Her smile widened, greatly liking the idea of something like that to look forward to. "Well, then, I guess you're just going to have to do that."

He kissed her warmly, stroking her back with his fingertips – their last night in the TARDIS, and he didn't intend to spend all of it in sleep. "It's a date, then."

* * *

Morning arrived long before anyone was ready, the seven Companions gathering in the Control Room for what Watson fervently hoped wouldn't be the last time. The doctor laid an affectionate hand on the central column of the console, smiling mistily at the ceiling. "Goodbye, dear lady."

The TARDIS crooned softly—she, of course, knew that she would see him again... Had already seen him again, was seeing him again, tenses were difficult when dealing with Time in a linear fashion. …but Companions didn't tend to say goodbye, and this set... this set, she had gotten very attached to.

Holmes nodded earnestly – he'd already said his goodbyes to the ship last night – and turned to where Nikola and George were waiting, forcing himself to speak lightly. "It'll be our turn to visit you next time, I suppose."

George chuckled, wringing the detective's hand. "Make sure to wire us first – where or when the Doctor will be dropping us back is anyone's guess!" Not _too_ far from when they'd left, he hoped.

The Doctor frowned, objecting for his sake and his girl's. "Oi!"

Nikola arched an eyebrow as he extended his hand to Watson, daring the Time Lord to deny it. "Until next time, gentlemen." _Have no fear, my friends... whatever else happens, he won't be alone._

The two men smiled back gratefully, though they both knew it was only a matter of time before the inventors would be disembarking themselves.

The women were hovering at the safety railing, Sally with her best stiff upper lip and Beth's eyes misty. When it came down to it, neither of them were quite ready for this, especially losing George and Nikola. (And neither were the Irregulars—those farewells had definitely been tearful.)

George enveloped Watson in a bear hug. "Goodbye, Watson." Softly, "I know I don't need to tell you this..." His gaze traveled to Sally and Kathy, smile turning tender; "but the days ahead will fly past before you even know it – don't ever take them for granted."

Watson nodded solemnly, hearing clearly everything George wasn't saying. "Never."

Sally decided to finally bite the bullet, approaching Nikola to say goodbye, with Beth following. _What am I going to do without him? Without either of them?_ Nikola hugged them both tightly, and Sally had to close her eyes against sudden tears. "Thank you for everything," she whispered.

Nikola's voice was husky. "Don't mention it." He reached out to Kathy, who was beginning to whimper. "No need to fret, little one – the Doctor will come back."

Kathy quieted, but her frown did not fade.

"You—" Beth's voice broke, and she had to start over. "You come back, too, okay?" _How are we supposed to do without you?_

The telepath nodded mutely, a lump in his throat. _Count on it._

Beth made a sound between a laugh and a sob, and leaned up to kiss his cheek before. She turned and went to George, who was looking misty-eyed himself.

Sally shifted her hold on Kathy to give Nikola a one-armed hug. _I will miss you so, so much_. _You helped me get through this in a way that no one else could_. She let go, stepped back, and nodded to him with a sad half-smile, then rejoined Beth.

George was blinking hard as he enfolded the girls, and kissed Kathy on the forehead. "Bye-bye, sweetheart. Be good for Mama."

Kathy's face began to crumple again. _Don't go_...

Sally started rocking her. "Shhhh, shhh…"

Beth rested her head on George's shoulder, whimpered softly, and whispered, "Thank you for everything…" _Thank you for being a dad for me, for all of us_.

George tightened his arms just a little, careful not to squash Kathy, chest aching. "It was our pleasure, Mrs. Holmes." Leaving loved ones never got any easier, it seemed... if not for the rest of his family across the Atlantic, he would have been sorely tempted to stay.

Beth had to stifle a sob. "Take care," Sally whispered. "And come back some time."

The inventor beamed, releasing the trio with great reluctance. "You just try to stop us."

The Doctor held the TARDIS console as he watched, gripping it tightly. He may have been starting to get cabin fever, but he had never liked goodbyes, and this lot was _family_... Just thinking of his farewells with Mrs. Hudson early that morning made his hearts hurt.

While the girls were saying goodbye to Nikola and George, Watson went over and gave the Doctor a bear hug worthy of George. "Doctor..." If only he had the words... "God bless you."

The Doctor returned the hug, murmuring, "Best wishes, John." His human colleague had quite a life ahead of him!

"You take care now." Even with companions, Heaven only knew what trouble the Time Lord would get himself into next!

"Ohhh," the Doctor drawled, doing his best to brighten up, "'course I will. I've still got my old girl—she'll look after me." The TARDIS twittered an enthusiastic affirmative, and the Time Lord had to smile. "And we'll both be keeping an eye on your little Time Lady."

Watson nodded gratefully, smiling in renewed wonder. "We'll hold you to that, Doctor. You know far more than we do about living with the Time Vortex." Grinning ruefully, "I'll have to be very careful to keep Kathy away from some of my patients."

The Doctor smiled more fully. "You'll do just fine, and so will she." They'd met Kathy before, after all, and she had been magnificent.

Watson let go and stepped back to let Holmes say goodbye, putting his arm around Sally when she and Beth came up; his girls both looked so forlorn, and Beth's expression was heartbreaking.

Sally nestled into her husband's hold, her chest hurting.

The Doctor hugged Sherlock Holmes tightly, unable to speak at first. He wondered if he'd ever even be able to look at the man again without feeling the now-familiar combination of guilt and pride. _Don't think about that now_.

Holmes managed to swallow the lump in his throat, murmuring, "Thank you, Doctor." He smiled kindly at the still speechless Time Lord. "What I said the first time we parted... I still stand by it." _"This has been the most incredible adventure, I wouldn't have missed it for the world."_

The Doctor managed to swallow the lump in his throat and nodded slowly, making an attempt at a smile for Sherlock's sake. "I guess," he started hoarsely, stopped, and cleared his throat—"I guess I'd agree with that." He regretted a lot of things, but getting to know and befriend Sherlock Holmes and John Watson wasn't one of them.

Holmes arched a mock-stern eyebrow. "Glad to hear it." He clasped the Doctor's shoulder warmly. "Travel well, my friend."

The Time Lord smiled a little bit more genuinely. "I always do."

Smile turning misty, Holmes let go and moved aside to let the girls say their goodbyes, Sally stepping forward first.

The Doctor met her halfway. He would certainly have liked more time to get to know her, but there would be time enough for that in the future.

"Well," Sally said slowly, her heart suddenly a tumult of emotions, not just loss. "I guess I'll see you around, Doctor."

The Time Lord smiled reassuringly. "I guess you will." Something was troubling her; he'd never seen her this uncertain before. "What's wrong?" he said gently.

Sally shook her head, moving closer. "Doctor," she murmured, "I'm scared. For Kathy. I'm scared that..." She laughed despairingly. "I'm just human—how can I possibly raise a Time Lady?" She wasn't telepathic like Nikola, and her daughter would also always be exquisitely aware of Time in a way Sally was not. One might as well ask a wolf to raise a human child and expect the poor child to function properly as a person! "She's going to need—"

"She's going to need your love," the Doctor said firmly, "and the rest will follow." And Kathy would be quite possibly the most loved child in all of Gallifreyan history. "She'll be all right, Sally, I promise you. Better than all right—she'll be _brilliant_. And the TARDIS and I will be around to help. All right?"

Sally closed her eyes, took a breath, and nodded.

The Doctor bent down over the baby, tenderly stroking her soft cheek. "You be a good girl for Mummy and Daddy, okay?" he murmured.

Kathy cooed softly. _I'll be good_.

The Doctor smiled. "I'll be back soon." He kissed her forehead, then rose and carefully wrapped his arms around Sally, who returned the hug with one arm. "Bye, Sally," he whispered. "Thanks again, for everything."

"Goodbye, Doctor, and thank _you_." Despite all the pain... Sally could not regret having gotten caught up in the Doctor's adventures. She stepped back, nodded, and returned to her husband.

Beth took a step toward the Doctor, then all but ran to him and threw her arms around him. He held her tightly, and she bit her lip. She had always liked the Doctor—zed, he'd been inside her head at one point—even if she hadn't always gotten along with him. And she was going to miss him now... and an ashamed part of her knew that she was going to miss him and the TARDIS as being her last concrete link to home, to _her_ world.

"Still wanna travel in the TARDIS," she murmured. All of Time and Space she might be able to see on her own someday, but the idea of doing it in the TARDIS just felt so much more... comfortable. A little less like the vagabond she'd been for almost a year.

He chuckled softly in surprise. "I'll see what I can do." Maybe take just her and Sally sometime—he had a feeling that each of the girls singly had way more sense than him and their husbands combined. "I _will_ get you your way home and back again, I promise."

Beth nodded, tears escaping her. "Please just don't take too long," she said hoarsely.

"I'll try not to." The Time Lord sighed and rubbed her back comfortingly. "Thank you... for everything." Beth didn't reply, only tightened her hold. "I know you feel like you don't deserve that," he continued gently, "and maybe you never will." Poor girl... in searching her timeline, he had seen the two years between their first meeting and their second. It had broken his hearts to discover that losing her best friend had changed Beth forever, in more ways than one. She was much more like her husband than either of them would have supposed. "But please just trust... that _we_ think you do. Okay?"

"...okay," she whispered.

"Take care of yourself. Take care of Sherlock. Make him take care of you."

Beth giggled in spite of herself. "Okay."

"Okay." The Doctor pulled back and squeezed her shoulder gently. " _Hasta la vista,_ kiddo."

Beth smiled slightly, genuinely. " _Hasta la vista_." She drifted back to where Sherlock stood, waiting, and wound her arms around his waist, desperately needing the comfort.

Holmes wrapped his arm around her, smiling in tender understanding. "Are you ready, love?" he asked gently.

Beth took a deep breath, trying her hardest not to lose her composure or her sanity—she really did _not_ want to leave. "As ready as I'll ever be."

He gave her a comforting squeeze, and shouldered his bag. "See you soon, Doctor." He nodded to Nikola and George. "Gentlemen." Arm still around Beth, he made himself start heading towards the door.

Watson murmured to Sally and Kathy, "Well, my dears?"

Sally looked at the Doctor, then glanced wistfully at the central column, then at George and Nikola. She almost felt... unfaithful to her husband; she couldn't begin to describe how much the inventors had helped her, or how much she'd relied on them. "Right, ready," she lied softly.

Watson kissed her hair, then addressed the three men, grinning bravely. "Until next time, you three. _Try_ to keep each other out of trouble till then."

The Doctor smiled slightly past the ache in his chest and raised his hand in farewell.

George and Nikola exchanged glances, snickering. "I'll do my best..." George answered wryly. God knew the other two wouldn't.

The Doctor rolled his eyes—as if he and Nikola weren't grown men!—and bent over the console, busying himself with it to hide the tears he could no longer hold back.

Nonetheless, Sally thought she saw a glimmer on his cheek. "Bye," she said softly.

Holmes blinked hard, steeling himself not to look back as he stepped outside – if he hesitated now, he might never leave at all – and took a few steps away before turning.

Beth tightened her hold on him for his own comfort more than for hers.

He smiled gratefully, still trying to hold back the tears that he wouldn't allow himself to shed in front of the Doctor.

Watson lifted a hand in a last farewell, then he and his family joined the Holmeses outside.

The TARDIS closed, and the Doctor slowly, gently took her into the Vortex and out of 1895.

Watson wrapped his arms back around Sally and Kathy as the TARDIS faded. "Godspeed, Doctor..." he said softly.

Holmes rested his head against Beth's until the sound of the TARDIS had faded away, staring wistfully at the bare patch of ground in the middle of the melting snow. Funny thing, now he came to think of it: he'd been standing in the snow the last time, too... Then Watson caught his eye, the doctor smiling at him in sympathy as he held his own family; after all, they might be back on the slow path again, but their own adventures weren't over yet, far from it.

* * *

Breakfast was a quiet affair, the sitting room table feeling very empty with just the five of them around it. Even Mrs. Hudson looked pensive, but was happy to take the girls shopping with her that morning – Beth still needed a court dress, and Sally would also be needing an evening gown eventually.

God only knew how long it would take to adjust back to normal Victorian life this time, Holmes mused, sitting in his chair before the fire and chewing on the stem of an empty pipe. Sharing the house with a newborn seemed an excellent excuse to give up smoking once and for all, but the withdrawal was quite another matter!

Watson sat in his chair, as well, scribbling notes in his notebook—there was so much to record! He stopped, chewed the pencil briefly, and sighed. "Well," he said aloud, "I must admit this has been one adventure I hardly feel inclined to write up, let alone publish..." Even if it wouldn't be dismissed out of hand as pure fantasy, it was also extremely intimate and painful.

Holmes smiled faintly, taking the pipe out of his mouth. "On the contrary, my dear fellow... I'm afraid that this is one story which must be told – with a few alterations, of course." Well, more than a few, perhaps!

Watson frowned in confusion, then recalled that Beth had been familiar with the actual case. "Oh. The case itself?"

"Indeed. Might I suggest as a title: 'The Bruce-Partington Plans'?" Probably best not to tell Watson just where he'd gotten that idea from... 'Sherlock Holmes for Dummies' wasn't the most flattering title in itself.

Watson smiled. "I cannot think of a better one."

"Bearing in mind," Holmes hastened to add, raising a stern forefinger, "that I _still_ do not approve your romanticising of a serious field of work."

Watson smirked; he'd been waiting to use this comeback since the wedding. "My dear fellow, I'm afraid that the _overwhelming_ adoration of the public, present and future—your wife included—is an overriding consideration for me."

The detective groaned, shaking his head. "And very glad I am to be shot of those hordes of future fans!" Well, all but three, anyhow... "I never should have let the Doctor drag me along to that Holmes film festival in '69."

Watson threw his head back, laughing; Holmes's sour expression was too much to bear straight-faced. "I did _not_ thank that man enough for everything, it seems!"

Holmes shot the doctor a half-hearted glower, then sighed. "Now you know why I was so reluctant to attend Brett's performance at Wyndham's Theater. If I had heard Peter Cushing utter 'Elementary, my dear Watson' one more time..."

Watson bit down a grin. "Well… I haven't written your saying that yet. I _could_ simply never do that."

"Thank you, Watson, I appreciate the thought..." Glumly, "Although I rather doubt it'll make much difference."

The doctor chuckled sympathetically. "Well, I'll omit it nonetheless."

Holmes nodded appreciatively, smile unconsciously turning wistful as he gazed at his friend.

Watson noticed and smiled quizzically. "What is it?"

The detective made a sound that was half a laugh, half a sigh. "I was just thinking... how very long it's been since the two of us last sat together like this. I have missed that, Watson, very much." So much, in the end, that he couldn't even look at the doctor's empty chair...

Watson's own smile turned a bit sad. "As have I," he said softly. The ache had been almost constant before the end. And now he wasn't sure how much longer he _would_ sit with Holmes like this; he had a family now, and Holmes and Beth were married, cramming six people into this small house...

"Is something wrong, Watson?" Stupid question, really, Holmes knew that preoccupied look.

Watson hesitated, unsure of how to say what he wanted to say. "Well, not _wrong_ , precisely... it's simply that..." He sighed. _You're being ridiculous_. "Well, all five—all _six_ —of us living together under one roof is going to take some getting used to..." It might not be a situation anyone would appreciate for long, particularly Holmes, who valued his personal space.

For a moment, Holmes felt as if the chair had been pulled out from under him... _Really? Come on, old chap, let's not go through all that again! You should have foreseen this days ago._ "...my dear fellow, say no more. I will freely admit that this is hardly the best place for raising an infant." He managed a faint smile. "But please do remember that Baker Street is your home, too, and always will be."

Watson stared—even after everything that had happened, he didn't want assume that his family could remain in 221B for very long. As Holmes himself said, it was hardly the best place for raising a baby... _But look at him. He doesn't want you to go. That's what started this_. "I... ah... Holmes, you must understand: Sally and I really have no wish to leave Baker Street. And it may be some time before I can even set up shop in a new house with a new practice..."

The tightening in Holmes's chest vanished in an instant at the sincerity in the doctor's voice, colouring at his own foolishness. "Watson... Forgive me, for a moment I thought..." He sat forward to meet Watson's gaze earnestly. "And I am heartily ashamed that such assurances were necessary, my dear friend."

Watson shook his head slightly, feeling foolish himself. "Holmes, you may not be of the same mind after a month of living with a baby, and... so much has changed. We're all changed." He felt saddened as he said it; there was a sadness, a sense of newly-gained maturity, in them all. Most visible in Sally and Beth, poor girls, Sally rushed into motherhood and Beth into adulthood... but the change was visible in Holmes, as well, and Watson felt it in his bones, rejuvenated though they were by his daughter. "I did not want to... assume... something that might not be true."

Holmes sighed faintly, exasperation warring with affection. "You know," he mused, "it's comforting, in a way, to know I'm not the only one who has trouble seeing the obvious at times..." His voice lost its teasing tone, smiling solemnly but tenderly at his friend. "But as I have learnt all too well firsthand, Watson... I truly am lost without you." In the fullness of time, of course, the Watsons would seek a new home – Kathy couldn't share a room with her parents forever – but that day was still a long way off. And on reflection, the notion seemed rather less dreadful to Holmes now, knowing as he did that 221B would never again feel _quite_ as empty as it once had.

Watson blushed, though it was wonderful to hear the sentiment again. They would be all right this time; they really would be. The thought filled his heart with joy. "Holmes… I rather think the reverse is true for me."

Holmes raised his pipe as if he were holding a glass, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the heat of the fire. "Then here is to the slow path, my dear fellow... and the continued adventures of Holmes and Watson –" with an impish gleam in his eye; "all five of them."

Watson chuckled and raised his notebook in return. "Hear, hear."

* * *

 **Ria:** *sigh* It breaks my heart as much as Sherlock, knowing that eventually the Watsons will be quitting 221B for good... but at least the thought doesn't terrify him like it used to! *hugs him* And still two more chapters left for this episode! Don't say it, we know, we're obsessed... =D


	14. Welcome Home

**==Chapter 14==**

 **Welcome Home**

 _I scarcely know where to begin, but love is always a safe place._

– Emily Dickinson

The visit to Windsor and the dinner with Queen Victoria had felt to Beth like a cross between a dream and a tightrope balancing act. Afterwards, she found that she couldn't quite relax until entering her own front door. "Okay, seriously, are you sure I did okay?" she asked Sherlock, her words seeming to trip over themselves. "Because there were a couple of times—"

Holmes cut her off with a kiss. "You were wonderful, sweetheart. Her Majesty was delighted with you." The Queen had even said as much to him during a private moment; he couldn't have been prouder of how Beth had risen to the occasion.

Beth made a noise of uncertainty. Victoria had been very kind, but even so... "I was bloody terrified."

He put his arms around her, murmuring in sympathy, "I know. At least it's over."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank goodness..." Not that the Queen had been stern or anything less than welcoming, but Beth hadn't trusted herself for one second to not do something improper. She couldn't go through that again!

"I've spoken to Mycroft; there'll be no more court appearances for either of us, unless absolutely necessary."

"Oh, that's good." She shook her head. "Because I really never want to do that again. At least, not in this time period." There were other royals, however, that she wouldn't mind meeting...

He looked at her curiously as they headed upstairs. "The English monarchy still exists in your time?" Something he hadn't bothered researching last time he was there.

She nodded, not surprised but nevertheless amused that he hadn't known that while he'd lived there. "Mm-hmm, King George VII, the son of King William V and Queen Katherine, better and affectionately known as Will and Kate. They were one of the most popular Royal couples ever. William died a few years ago—for me—but the Queen Mother's still ticking." She smiled slightly, recalling the photos and stories and videos she'd seen, including one absolutely adorable picture of the couple brandishing Harry Potter wands at each other. "I would love to meet them as a young couple."

He smiled back, intrigued. "Another one for the list, hm?" It might be wise to begin compiling one.

"I suppose so, yeah..." The sitting room was deserted as they entered, and they sat together on the settee, enjoying the temporary quiet and the fire's warmth, Beth relaxing against her husband. "Sherlock... how often do you suppose you're out on cases?"

"Not nearly as regularly as I'd like," he said ruefully. "Watson once compared detective work to catching a cab: you can wait forever for just one, and then three arrive all at once. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just trying to figure out..." She shrugged. "...what to, um... do with myself, I guess..." She had no more ideas now than she had when she had talked about it with Sally.

Holmes nodded thoughtfully. "Somehow I didn't think you'd be content to follow me around all the time. It is a great pity the police force won't take women for a few more decades."

"Mm." It would still be twenty years until women were allowed merely as _constables_ , let alone detectives... "I don't know _what_ to do..."

"If I may ask... why exactly did you want to join the force? I gather there was more to it than simply following tradition."

She sighed. "Well, no, that _was_ a big part of it." Two hundred years of proud police service, begun by one very brave man. Of course she'd wanted to be part of that, her own family history. "I wanted to be like my dad. And I wanted... well..." _I wanted to be as good as you, or near enough_. She blushed and shook her head—talk about delusions of grandeur.

Holmes's cheeks were turning red, too. "And I still have trouble understanding why..." How on earth had meeting her hero in the flesh not completely put her off?

She frowned, tilted her head, and looked up at him quizzically. After all this time, this same question...?

"Despite my literary counterpart having his uses," her husband sighed, "there were times when I fervently wished I'd never given Watson permission to write him." Softly, "It was only when I saw the light in your eyes while watching Jeremy Brett on stage... that _I_ first truly wanted to be him..." Blast, he'd meant to say 'be _like_ him'! _Funny how the truth just slips out sometimes, isn't it?_

Her eyes widened, a whole new meaning given to his attitude in 1988. "Oh, honey..." She raised a hand to his cheek, caressing it with her thumb. "I think there's less of a disconnect than you think." Much less, really—she had just had the bad luck of getting to know Sherlock Holmes at his very worst. "And, to be honest, physical similarities aside... if I had to choose between Jeremy's version of you and the real you, I would not pick Jeremy's. I love that version, and him, dearly... but he didn't always get it right. You are the same man..." She smiled ruefully, uncertain of how he would feel about this—it never really came up. "...that I fell in love with as a little girl." Brilliant, impetuous, imperious, more than a little dorky, and absolutely adorable.

Holmes's cheeks now felt like glowing coals. "Well..." he murmured, leaning in to kiss her, "I hope I was worth waiting for?"

 _Goose_. Best to lighten the mood. "Absolutely not," she returned, trying to deadpan but unable to keep from breaking into a grin.

A snort of laughter escaped him. "Oh no? And what about you, eh?" He nuzzled her, murmuring darkly, "Bound for life to this wicked, wanton hoyden, I shall be a shadow of my former self within a twelvemonth..."

 _Drama queen_. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

On a sudden, wicked impulse, he wrapped his arms around Beth's waist and started tickling her.

She gasped in surprise, then giggled helplessly, writhing and flailing. "No—Sherlock!—oh my gosh—stop it—you are—ridiculous...!"

He took pity on her and stopped, kissing her cheek from behind. "Mm, so your great-grandfather informs me. Dearest, I've no wish for you to live in my shadow, either. If there's anything I can do to help..."

Panting, she leaned back against him. "I don't know... I don't even know what I _want_... All my life, I wanted to have adventures... and when I finally _had_ them... they were... too much..." She sighed. "I don't feel much like doing that again for a while..." Maybe not ever, except for the fact that she already was beginning to feel restless; adventure was in her blood and there wasn't much she could do about it.

"Give it some time, love." He kissed her hair. "Ordinarily, you still wouldn't even have graduated yet."

"And that's another thing—I haven't even been to college..." And she'd been excited to go...

"Well, I'm sure we could work something out – if you wished to go, that is." There were a good number of colleges open to women nowadays, and Beth wouldn't be the youngest ever entrant at eighteen, not by a long way.

She shook her head in frustration. "I don't know—I don't even know what I'd study!" What kind of degree could she even get aside from something like a BA? "Sherlock, I really don't know what to do!"

"Oh, Beth..." Holmes rocked her gently. "I know it's frustrating, love... but before making any decisions, you need to give yourself time to come back down." Almost everyone here had been living on adrenaline for months, and the aftermath wouldn't be fun for any of them.

"I know, I know... Just don't be surprised if I mope a lot in the process."

"We can keep each other company, then." He kissed her cheek, and began unpinning her hair. "Believe me, love, I do understand. Watson had to cope with me going through much the same withdrawal when I came back to London last year – and that was after three years' running and hiding!"

She smiled, humming at his touch. "How long did it take to recover?"

"I'm not sure... although I've no doubt I did before the Doctor came back." Finished with the pins, he tucked them into his coat pocket and started combing out the twists with his fingers. "Watson helped a great deal, for which I am very thankful, as it took a few months for any serious work to come my way again." He sighed ruefully. "One of the disadvantages of pretending to be dead – it takes rather a long time to resurrect oneself in the eyes of the public."

"Awww, I'll bet." _I've always wondered how the public took_ that. She reached for his free hand and squeezed it. "Poor sweetie."

Holmes squeezed back lightly, wrapped both their arms around her waist, holding her close. "You still haven't heard about the first time I met the Doctor, have you?" Stories always seemed to help Beth relax, even when he was the one telling them.

She melted completely in his hold, smiling contentedly. "Mm, no, I don't think so." Only random snippets, here and there. "What happened?"

"Well, d'you remember my telling Watson about visiting Tibet in 'The Empty House'? I was still travelling as the explorer Sigerson at the time..."

* * *

The next morning, Holmes went out to visit West's family, regretfully but firmly refusing any company. Watson silently wished his friend all the best with that painful duty, then returned to his own: seated at the writing desk, Kathy dozing in her basket bed at his feet, pencil tapping on his teeth as he pondered how best to open the narrative for the case. Perhaps something about Holmes going stir-crazy with all that fog...

Having finished a couple of chores for the morning, Beth wandered into the sitting room, intent on finding a book to read, and stopped short at the sight of the sleeping baby. She walked slowly and quietly to the bookcase and gave John a little wave of hello.

He smiled at her hesitantly, then asked, "Ah, Beth, can you spare a few minutes?"

"Of course." She folded her hands behind her back and leaned lightly against the bookcase. "What's up?"

"Well, I'm updating my notes for this latest case, but there's a certain segment I'm still missing. If you'd care to assist...?"

She frowned thoughtfully, doing a quick mental recap of what she'd been a part of in the 'final version,' as it were, of the case. "Sure. What do you need?"

"Your meeting with Lestrade at Scotland Yard last..." Watson checked his notebook; "last Friday week, the 22nd." Good heavens, had that really been less than a fortnight ago?

She tilted her head. "You haven't asked Sherlock?"

"He's next, just as soon as I can pin him down," Watson grinned wryly. "I need both your memories for this."

She returned the grin, snickering softly. "Ah, all right, I'll do my best… And I'm not sure how good that will be, just warning you now…" Stories that she had read upwards of two dozen times were clearer in her mind than her own memories—most of them, anyway.

"You'll be fine – besides, you're the only person who knows how much the written scene will differ from the real one!"

She winced. "Yeah… I'm not sure I ought to be helping you _there_ , though..." At his quizzical look, she tried to explain. "I mean, I don't want to give you anything that I've read that I thought came from you and make it come out of nowhere and create a paradox." She winced again— _well,_ that _sounded coherent_. "…I… am not sure how much sense that made, sorry."

"Ah, I see. Honestly, Beth, I'd be more inclined to call it a Time Loop than a paradox, as long as nothing new is added. But first I need to know what actually did happen, then we can edit from there." Watson added gently, "I do realise this might seem rather daunting." It certainly was for him! His first write-up since learning how crucial his stories would actually be to so many... Second guessing oneself was no fun at the best of times, and it was going to be at least as difficult for Holmes, solving all those cases in the first place.

She nodded slowly. "Yeah… might go easier if you ask me questions..."

He brightened, readying his pencil again. "All right, then. Was anyone else there besides Lestrade and Mycroft?"

She shook her head. "It was just the four of us in the Inspector's office. Sherlock introduced me to Mycroft and Geoffrey, and Mycroft already knew so he was able to take it in stride, but I _swear_ poor Geoffrey nearly died of shock." Not that she could blame him! Anyone who might have thought that she _hadn't_ been surprised to realize that Sherlock returned her feelings would have been gravely mistaken!

Watson couldn't help chortling, well able to imagine Lestrade's face from how he'd looked at the wedding.

She smiled ruefully. "And then..." She bit her lip, trying to recall actual dialogue. "He asked Sherlock about his progress on the case, and Sherlock filled them in, told them about Oberstein."

Still scribbling, the doctor winced at a sudden thought: "I suppose he had to tell Lestrade we broke in?"

She nodded. "I think that Geoffrey was rather resigned to it."

"Well, it was in a good cause." Watson's grin was completely unrepentant. "And then?"

"Well, Sherlock told them about the fake advertisement in the paper. Geoffrey was pleased with the prospect—" Beth stopped and blinked, taken aback for a moment by her the development in her own vocabulary—"and Sherlock invited them both to the stakeout at Caulfield Gardens."

"Which was soon followed by a second invitation, I gather?" How he wished he could have been there for that. It was funny, when you thought about it: the Inspector had taken Frozen Time entirely in stride, but finding out his colleague was engaged to be _married_...

She colored slightly in remembrance. "Yes... and then Mycroft gave Sherlock the marriage license."

"Right." Though that bit would definitely have to be left out... Watson sighed as he flipped back through his notebook, looking glumly at all the notes he'd boxed or underlined.

Beth frowned. "What's the matter?"

"It just seems so unfair... Without your help, this case would never have been solved... and out of everyone involved, you three girls receive the least recognition."

She winced and shifted uncomfortably, dropping her gaze to the floor. "Yeah..." She was excited to start on Sherlock's memoirs, because it _would_ be amazing, but it also _burned_ that even Sally would get a one-off mention later on in the canon and Beth never could. She'd already read the as-yet-unpublished stories, and there was never the _slightest_ hint that Sherlock Holmes was romantically attached to anyone, let alone married. And after everything she'd been through... "Kinda sucks," she said in a small voice.

"Mm..." He'd done the math, less than half of the published cases hadn't happened yet... even so, what must it be like for Beth, with all those Fixed Points to keep track of? Could it be that she was... feeling strong-armed, forced to follow a destiny not of her own making? _But those stories aren't all, Beth knows that! Does she? Does Sally? Maybe... maybe there's a way you can help them both._

She looked up questioningly at the thoughtfulness in his tone.

"...It would only be a paradox if you'd read about yourself _before_ you left with us in the TARDIS, yes?"

She frowned. "Doctor, I've read all of your stories."

"As far as you knew," Watson answered innocently. "If you'll recall, I have needed to use a _nom de plume_ before."

Her frown deepened before she remembered the alter ego he'd used in different decades of the 21st century. "Yeah..."

"Sixty is only the official number, Beth. There's no reason I can't write more, as long as they're published under a different name."

Her eyes went wide. He was really offering more stories?

Watson put down his pencil with a sigh. "Sally tells me my editor's going to be getting most of the credit for the 'canon', anyhow." Would that be his own doing, or Doyle's?

Beth's expression turned sympathetic—the sad thing was that _everybody_ would get the short end sooner or later, Sherlock and John included. "I'm sorry... Would you really, though?" She couldn't keep the hope from creeping into her voice. "Really write... more?"

The doctor nodded, smiling at the new light in Beth's eyes. "It would be my privilege."

Her heart was suddenly too full to speak. She straightened, stepped forward, and hugged him. _Thank you, thank you, thank you_.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon, and Kathy was ready for her next nap but missing her blanket. Sally went down to the sitting room to retrieve it, then paused when she saw Sherlock alone in the room. _Oops_. "Oh, sorry," she said aloud, "I just... ah, Kathy's blanket..." _Oh, well done, very coherent_.

"Oh, er..." Holmes looked around and spotted a heap of blue flannel on the settee, half hidden behind a cushion. "Is that it?"

She nodded, hoping she didn't look as flustered as she felt as she went to pick it up. "Yes, sorry."

Holmes awkwardly waved a hand, rather more forcefully than he'd intended, sighing at himself. He hadn't grown accustomed yet to the house being this crowded, and everyone was still tip-toeing around each other. "Sally... You really needn't apologise, you know, for taking up space." Then the detective blushed as he realised how that had sounded! "I mean..."

"No, no, it's okay..." She didn't quite meet his eyes, though— _what, after all this time, is wrong with me? You mean, aside from the fact that this is only your second private conversation with Sherlock Holmes ever? Yeah_... "I'm just, ah... still getting used to actually _taking_ up space here, I suppose."

Holmes nodded sympathetically. "Watson told me about this place becoming a museum – did you ever visit?"

"Once, yeah. Dragged my friend Kathy with me." Kathy had complained about it until they got there, and then she'd wanted to have her photo taken with every mannequin in the building. "It was fun, but..." She looked around her and smiled, still a bit in awe of the place, an important piece of history that she was now a part of. "It was really nothing like it is now." As with any such museum, it was easy to see how much love had gone into the Sherlock Holmes Museum, but even so... At the end of the day, it was just a building housing a collection of antiques and memorabilia, not the home it was now.

"I should hope not!" was Holmes's smiling but heartfelt answer. He never wanted to have to visit Baker Street in the future; seeing his home turned into an exhibit in a glass case would be almost as bad as the flat having no trace of him or Watson in it.

Sally's smile turned sympathetic—she couldn't even imagine how it would feel to visit your home after it was turned into a museum. Deciding to change the subject, she asked, "How's Beth doing? She seems to be adjusting pretty well here. Well, I mean, half the time I see her, she's half-frantic about getting this or that right, but the other half... She's really happy. The happiest I've ever seen her." Sally hasn't realized until the wedding that she was used to seeing Beth looking sad, resignedly so, a sadness Sally could sometimes take the edge off of but never take away completely. And now the younger girl was smiling so often, her blue eyes bright and full of a joy Sally had never seen in her before. Sometimes seeing her that happy made Sally want to cry.

A rapidly reddening Holmes couldn't think how to respond to that, though he suspected his face was eloquent enough!

She grinned at his reaction. "Well, it's true!" Then her grin faded. "You have no idea... well, maybe you do... what she was like, ah, a few months ago. It's really nice to see her smile so much."

He nodded, trying to smile himself – he did appreciate the sentiment, even if Sally's compliments were like coals of fire on his forehead... _A discomfiture you earned, just remember! You don't know how fortunate you are that she forgave you so readily..._

Sally began to feel nervous at Sherlock's continued silence—it would be nice when she'd know him well enough to get a decent read on him. Inability to read him notwithstanding, she decided to take the plunge with something she'd been meaning to tell him for a while. "Actually, I d-did want you to know that I'd meant to have a talk with you when the Doctor dropped us off. We just... kind of left before I could." She blushed.

Holmes's eyes widened, appalled. "Sally..." He'd never even considered that she might feel guilty, too!

She sank to the settee. "I mean, I wasn't the happiest with you, at the time, but you and John meant so much to each other and I understood that and the last thing I wanted was for the two of you to lose each other. It's _painful_ , losing your best friend—I wouldn't wish that on anyone. And I really was going to tell you but then John came up and he was being angry and stubborn and—you were right about one thing: we hadn't known each other for very long and I didn't know how to handle him being like that. But I was actually going to come back the next day and have that talk, but then everything started falling apart..." She propped her chin in her hand, feeling miserable. "I should have gone with my first instinct: roost on the bed and refuse to move."

Holmes listened in sympathetic silence – partly because he was searching in vain for something comforting to say – and in the end, he simply got up and came over to sit beside her.

She glanced at him as he sat, then back down at the floor. "I'm sorry," she said softly, and shook her head. She had already told John this, but she had to tell Sherlock, too—if not for his forgiveness, then for her own peace of mind. "I should have tried harder with John—I really should have said something to _you_ sooner! You two have something very special with each other, and I never wanted..." She blushed, recalling her conversation with John in the TARDIS medbay, talking about Mary and Sally's own future. "To be honest, I had been afraid... that I might end up always playing second fiddle to you."

Holmes smiled sadly; the irony of it... "So we were both afraid of the same thing." Sighing, "You seemed so... sure of yourself, so confident – and I think I envied you that, more than anything."

Sally looked up then, startled. "Well... that's a bit rich, coming from you." _Excuse me, what are we trying to accomplish here, again?_ "Sorry, sorry!" She looked away in embarrassment for a moment, then back. "I think... all I was sure of... was that I loved John and he loved me. I guess I wasn't so much confident as... _hopeful_." She bowed her head—the fact that Sherlock had been in the wrong did not excuse her own responsibility in the affair. "I should have at least tried to have a real talk with you, long before anything went wrong... and I didn't. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Sally..." He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her gently. "After everything I'd done to make you feel unwelcome, I can't blame you for hesitating." He wouldn't have blamed her for washing her hands of him completely, but thank God she hadn't.

She smiled faintly, grateful for the hug. "You _were_ kind of a jerk." She paused, then continued shyly, "I'm glad you didn't stay one." Beth had been right about him, and for her sake and John's, Sally couldn't have been happier.

"Well..." Holmes smiled sheepishly, "I wouldn't be _too_ optimistic about that..." It would be nice to think that his moments of acting like a spoilt child were over, but not very realistic.

She smirked. "Oh, I don't know, I don't think Beth would let you be." She grinned widely then—Beth was a tigress, and completely capable of keeping her husband in line.

He grinned back, the tension between his shoulders finally starting to dissipate. "Just don't forget, you're welcome to give me an earful as well if I become quite unbearable!"

She laughed. "Mm-hmm, I won't forget, though something tells me that having Mrs. Hudson _and_ Beth around will be quite enough to keep you in line." Suddenly, she remembered that she was holding a blanket, and looked down at it. "And I should take this back upstairs."

Holmes nodded, letting her go, then turned abruptly before she could leave the room. "Sally?"

She stopped and looked back. "Yeah?"

The detective smiled shyly, blush returning. "Just for the record – and I know I probably should have said it a long time ago, but... welcome home." Sally had shown little sign that she missed the twenty-first century, but to leave everything she'd ever known behind to make a new life, here and now... and if Beth hadn't been able to stay, too, he hated to think how lonely that could have been, for both of them.

Sally beamed. "Thank you."

* * *

 **A/N from Sky:** I actually find it difficult to do A/Ns for these chapters because they're so conversation-heavy and action-less. They are conversations that we feel needed to happen—and to be shown—but I feel like there's not much to comment on. We do hope, though, that you guys are still enjoying it! If, like me, you don't have anything specific to comment on, please just drop a review saying that you're still reading this and liking it! We'd greatly appreciate it!


	15. A Wonderful Life

**==Chapter 15==**

 **A Wonderful Life**

 _Those are the two things you want to do most when you love somebody: to save them (sometimes from themselves) and to be near them always._

— François Lelord, Hector and the Search for Happiness

With December only two days away, Beth had had several ideas growing on her, and shared them with Sally. As the two couples were tucking into dinner that night, the younger girl looked up and smiled conspiratorially. "So. Sally and I have been thinking..."

Watson looked up, curious less at Beth's words and more at her expression. He was, after all, still getting to know her properly, and in this moment, she really could rival her husband for secretive smiles.

Holmes quirked an eyebrow, instantly intrigued. "Yes?"

"We have been thinking about how, in less than a month, it will be Christmas. And what we should do about that."

Watson raised his eyebrows and glanced at Holmes for his reaction—Christmas had never been much of a to-do in 221B before.

Holmes returned the look with an unreadable one of his own. "You've something specific in mind?"

Sally nodded, smiling in barely contained excitement. "We'd love to throw a party for the boys." It was her and Beth's first _real_ Victorian Christmas, and they meant to make it one to remember. "You have to admit they deserve it!"

Watson returned his wife's smile. "They do, indeed." Those poor, brave lads deserved much more, really. "I think that's a wonderful idea."

"We thought maybe Christmas Eve? Keep the day itself low-key, it'll be Kathy's first." Sally was extremely curious to know what their daughter would make of it all.

"And _our_ first here," Beth added, "so low-key… yeah. But for Christmas Eve, have a big dinner, presents… it's too bad George can't be here to play Santa Claus. He'd be perfect." _And would probably love it, too_.

"He would," Holmes chuckled. Hmm... perhaps could Mycroft be prevailed upon? His brother wouldn't even need any extra padding... but Holmes had probably called in too many favours already for something as undignified as that.

"Oh, that reminds me," Sally said. "It'll probably arrive a bit late, but I'd really like to get a group photo of all of us for George and Nikola." The local post office had been packed to the door every time she'd gone past, and it was still only November!

Watson nodded. "I'm certain they'd appreciate that, yes." They had been such a tight-knit family: the inventors, Sally and Beth, and the Irregulars—Watson was sure the two men missed their charges.

"Though I guess we'll have to visit an actual studio." Sally sighed. "That's one thing I will miss about twentieth century photography: no _self_ -portraits!" She and Beth both had selfies on their phones, but no way to develop them.

Beth hummed in agreement, then glanced at Sherlock, wondering what exactly he thought of all this. If 'The Blue Carbuncle' was to be believed, he hadn't had very much to do with Christmas in the past, but armed now with the knowledge that John's writings had not always been one hundred percent accurate, she couldn't say either way.

Holmes smiled faintly at his wife, a silent promise to talk later. To both girls he said, "Well, I'm sure Mrs. Hudson will be happy to assist with the food for the party. I believe she's planning to make a start on her Christmas cake this week."

Beth blinked. "Already? Wow. That could be fun." On the other hand... cooking in this century was far, _far_ more intensive and time-consuming than she'd been used to, and she kind of hated it. "I hope."

"Ohh, just you wait," Sally grinned. For her, cooking with Mrs. Hudson was a privilege and an education rolled into one. "Gran used to make her cake like that, soaked all the fruit in rum for a week before it went in the batter. You couldn't pass a breathalyser test after one slice!"

Beth couldn't help giggling. "Now _that_ , I have to admit, I am totally down for."

* * *

Everyone had retired to their rooms for the night, and Beth began to hum as she undressed for bed—softly and absently at first, but the indeterminate tune soon turned into 'White Christmas.' It would be so lovely to have a really good first Christmas here...

Holmes smiled as he listened, finding nightshirts for both of them – the nights were growing bitterly cold, and Beth felt it even more than he did.

Beth hurriedly donned the nightshirt, transitioning from humming to singing automatically on the last lines of the song: " _...may your days be merry and bright... and may all your Christmases be white..._ "

"Well, this one certainly looks set to be," Holmes remarked, head surfacing from his own nightshirt. He wrapped his arms around Beth from behind, kissing her cheek. "That was beautiful."

She smiled at his kiss and shook her head. "It's just an oldie."

"New to me." He and Watson had never gotten to see any future Christmases, come to think of it. He rested his chin on her shoulder, snuggling his cheek against hers. "I like listening to you..."

She relaxed against him, nuzzling him lightly. "I know... big ole softie..."

"Mm-hmm. And if you teach me, I'll be able to play them for you." He'd like to be able to contribute _something_ to the Christmas party.

She twisted around to look at him directly, surprised. "Really?"

"Of course. I'm sure the boys would love to hear them, too."

"Why do I still feel like I'm only just getting to know you?" she said ruefully. Her one consolation was that she _knew_ Sally was in much the same boat.

"Is that what was troubling you before?" He stroked her cheek, smiling in reassurance. "If there's anything you wish to know, _cherie_ , you've only to ask."

She shook her head again, feeling sheepish—it was one thing to know that, and another to follow through on it. And then there were the times when she felt that she'd asked so many questions that she wondered when he would get tired of answering them. "No, it's just... you and Christmas... I was under the impression before that the two of you didn't mesh very well. I mean, yes, that's going by the stories, but the stories aren't exactly one hundred percent _inaccurate_..."

"Mm. It's... complicated, I'll admit. I don't have many good memories of the holiday from my younger years." Decorations alone could not create a joyous atmosphere in a house where no one laughed... Even the traditional banquet for the estate workers had been subdued by the setting, hushed voices and nervous glances as the guests got through the meal as hastily as politeness allowed, barely even touching their glasses except to drink the health of their host.

Her mouth formed an 'o'. "I'm sorry... I should have thought of that." Open mouth, insert foot! _Is there ever going to be a day that I don't do that?_

"After I was sent to boarding school, I'd only come home for Christmas if I knew Mycroft would be there, too." Holmes smiled warmly, gratitude tinged with sadness. "He always remembered to write." Not to mention taking care never to give gifts of the socks-and-handkerchiefs variety! His top drawer had gradually become stuffed to overflowing, until he'd built a handkerchief kite one summer and tried to fly it on the South Lawn... Next Christmas had been mercifully free of such gifts, or any at all, really, besides Mycroft's magnifying glass.

She turned all the way around and hugged him, rubbing his back comfortingly. "My poor sweetheart..."

"I'll never forget the first Christmas here – Watson gave me a pair of cufflinks. I was never so surprised..." Ruefully, "or so mortified. I hadn't gotten him anything, hadn't even thought to do so!" He'd been forced to improvise, promising not to conduct any experiments for the next fortnight, which had seemed to go down well enough.

She swallowed her grin and went for a sympathetic "aww" instead. "What about the Christmas after that?"

"Well, we had some vicious windstorms that winter. A week before the day, Watson's bowler was blown off his head and crushed by a cart wheel before either of us could rescue it. I have to admit, I was more thankful than sorry; I don't normally do very well with choosing gifts, so it was a relief to know exactly what to get him."

She laughed softly and shook her head. The word 'hopeless' came to mind, but it was also a little bit endearing.

"Does that surprise you?" _That the Great Detective is human after all? I think she's worked that one out._

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "You're adorable."

Holmes blushed, shaking his head at himself. "It's all very well deducing what someone has a need for, but trying to balance the practical with the sentimental..."

She tilted her head. "Hmm... I've always given gifts based on what people like."

"Well, be warned," he smiled, kissing her, "I intend to rely heavily on your judgement this year."

"I can totally live with that," she grinned, and kissed him back.

Holmes's fingers threaded through her hair as they kissed. Mm, so soft... although a bit on the tangled side just now. On impulse, he drew her towards the bed, sitting her down on the edge.

She frowned smilingly. "What are you up to now?"

He retrieved a brush from the bureau and sat down behind her. "Pampering you," he murmured, and started gently brushing out her hair, beginning at the ends.

She flushed slightly. "Ah. Okay, then."

"You don't mind?"

"Of course not." She hummed softly, head tipping back slightly, eyes drifting half-closed. "It feels nice…"

"You have beautiful hair, love." He couldn't resist combing his fingers through the bits he'd already done.

She tilted her head further, enjoying the attention, thrilled once again with just how sweet her husband could be. "So you prefer brunette over blonde?" she said teasingly.

Holmes chuckled. "Well, having seen you as both, I can definitely say yes." Beth had looked good as a blonde, though.

She giggled slightly. "I would have to say likewise for you, too." He still had looked very handsome with blond hair, but it was his dark hair against his light eyes and pale skin that really made his look and she adored it.

"Mm, 'Tall, Fair and Reasonably Striking in a Good Light' just doesn't have the same ring, does it?"

She laughed. "Oh my gosh, what am I going to do with you?"

He kissed the back of her head and resumed brushing. "Let me keep spoiling you?"

She smiled. "Always." Inconveniently, something she had had been thinking about earlier rose to the front of her mind, and she had put it off until they had enough time to talk in private. "...Sherlock? I've been thinking... and I... I owe you an apology."

Holmes blinked, taken aback. "For what, love?"

Beth exhaled slowly. "For… being a jerk… when we were in Europe." She bowed her head in shame. "I… honestly did… push buttons with you… just to get a rise out of you, sometimes. I do have a mean streak—I like to think it's small, but it's there…" She shook her head. "And, oh, zed, that time in the inn…" She covered her face, wishing she'd never kissed him like that. "I was awful. You'd given me a look just for _show_ that I'd just… seen too many times for real… and it made me _mad_ … and I wanted to make you feel just as uncomfortable." In a small voice, she finished, "So I did."

He put his arms around her, listening quietly, glad she couldn't see his face just at the moment. "Beth... it was my fault, too, love – I should never have forced you to play a part like that without even warning you. " And knowing what he knew now, he wasn't at all sure that the way he'd looked at her _had_ been only an act. "Honestly, I'm amazed that you didn't give me another slap instead!"

She gave a mirthless laugh. "I wanted to… that probably would have been more justifiable… I _stole_ a kiss from you, Sherlock—I should never have done that."

"Well, perhaps not..." He kissed her hair again, rested his head against hers. "But after all the aggravation I'd caused you, _cherie_ , I really can't blame you!"

She sighed and relaxed in his hold. "I'd ask you to forgive me… only it sounds like you have… Don't let me do that, okay? Don't let me get away with pushing your buttons."

Holmes smiled tenderly. _You never needed to ask, dearest._ "If you'll promise to do the same for me." Remembering his words to her before she'd hit him still made him want to sink through the floor.

Feeling the tightness in her chest ease a little, she looked up and nodded.

He tucked her now smooth hair back behind her ears, murmuring, "Do you know, love, I have a strong suspicion that I may have been dreaming about that kiss just before waking up..."

She blushed deeply, eyes widening in surprise. _I would_ never _have thought that!_

"The first of many," Holmes continued softly as he cupped her cheek and leaned in. Countless, if he had anything to say about it...

* * *

(Scene rating: V)

" _The first of many..."_

 _...Beth swaying drunkenly as Holmes hauls her to her feet in the tavern, the first touch of her lips on his making his heart stop..._

 _"I'm sorry," she murmurs, staring into the fire, knees drawn up to her chest. "This whole thing..." A soft, self-deprecating laugh. "Not what I'd had in mind."_

" _No..." What else can he say? That before her arrival in his chambers, his only fixed plans were to cheat Moriarty out of an interesting future by poisoning himself? Yes, that'll go down well..._

 _...the snap and crackle of flames becomes the clicking of lockpicks, seconds before his suite door swings open..._

" _Hi."_

 _For a moment he can't move, can't even breathe, it's been so long, he's been starting to think Moriarty_ wasn't _lying... "Beth. I suspected the rumours of your death had been exaggerated."_

" _...What has he_ done _to you?"_

" _Moriarty? Nothing I have not allowed him to."_

 _Beth flinches, shaking her head. "He's a monster. How could you_ _ever_ _want to be_ _like_ _him? Who... who_ are _you?"_

" _Believe what you will, Miss Lestrade… it is of no matter to me, any more than your regard for the man you thought you knew."_ _  
_

 _She flinches again, eyes closing. "Then what_ does _matter to you?" she whispers. "The fact that because you're oh-so-aloof-and-alone, you're not going to be hurt anymore by the people you love? You're not going to see them get hurt or die?"_ _  
_

" _That was the whole point of Moriarty's taking me under his wing, so to speak—the man wished for a protégé, an equal he could mould into a facsimile of himself." Holmes bows mockingly. "As you can see, he was rather successful."_

 _She sinks to the floor, eyes anguished and glistening. "...you coward..."_

" _You cannot save me, Beth—it is too late. I have learned from my mentor only too well." Heavy footsteps in the hall beyond. "I am sorry, my dear... but you chose this path, as I chose mine..."_

 _She smiles at him sadly. "I chose it gladly, Sherlock. No regrets..."_

 _Moriarty slowly claps as the door opens, four armed men behind him. "Bravo, Miss Lestrade. A touching performance, truly. My dear Holmes, would you care to do the honours?"_

 _Holmes slants one eyebrow, regarding Moriarty thoughtfully. "On the contrary, my dear sir—I could hardly deny you the privilege."_

 _The Professor's smile and voice develop an edge. "I insist."_

 _Holmes gives the older man a second mocking bow. "As great as this honour is, my dear Moriarty, I fear I must decline—if you wish the girl dead, you must perform the deed yourself, or order one of your lackeys to carry out the task." He yawns. "Murdering young females is simply not on my list of things to accomplish at the moment."_

 _Moriarty's face might be carved from stone. A sharp nod, and two guards point their revolvers at Holmes._

" _Sherlock, don't," Beth pleads, eyes huge. "I… it's okay, all right? It's okay. Just… don't, please."_

 _He arches an eyebrow calmly. "Alive or dead, Miss Lestrade, what have I truly to lose? This micro universe is not large enough to contain two Moriartys, and even if it were... I should not care to share eternity with an ego that matched my own." Turning to Moriarty, "Proceed."_

 _Beth stares. "No…"_

 _Moriarty's eyes burn. "So be it."_

 _Trigger fingers move down._

 _Beth steps in front of Holmes._

 _Slams back against him with the impact of two bullets, slumps to the floor, struggling for breath._ _"No…"_

 _He stands immobile, staring back at her, brow furrowed in confusion._

 _She tries to smile up at him. "Worth… wound…"_

 _The guards grab hold of him and he does not resist._

" _Worth… many…" Then Moriarty's boot is grinding down, Beth's screams half-choked with blood..._

" _Sherlooock!"_

 _But his feet are buried in snow, frozen in place, a statue of ice where a human ought to be..._

" _...love..."_

 _This is wrong, all wrong... how could it go so wrong, how is_ he _still alive? It should be him lying there, staring glassily at nothing..._

" _Such a shame." Moriarty straightens, coolly studying the corpse beneath his bloodstained boot. "I should have liked to know her better."_

 _His last chance to escape this stinking, stagnant pool of Frozen Time... and the stupid, selfish woman has robbed him of it!_

" _...love..."_

 _No! It was MY turn, not yours! I WANTED to die, WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME?!_

* * *

Beth was pulled to wakefulness by movement and noise. She opened her eyes groggily, then wide, seeing the state her husband was in: thrashing, sobbing, calling her name. "Sherlock?" Rather than startle him, she grabbed his hand and interlocked their fingers. "Sherlock! Sherlock, wake up!"

 _No!_ Holmes started awake with a choking gasp, sitting bolt upright, heart pounding in his chest like a hammer... like the bullets Beth had taken for _him_... _Beth... oh God, Beth, forgive me..._

Concerned, Beth sat up and lifted her free hand to his face, touching it lightly. "Sherlock?"

Startled into breathing again, he turned, his hand unconsciously lifting to hers, soft and warm on his cheek... "...Beth..." _Could_ she be real?

The look in his eyes scared her, as if he was looking at a ghost. She stroked his cheek gently, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Sweetheart, what happened?"

He couldn't answer, simply clung to her, tears streaming, whether in relief or pain, he didn't know... _Thank God..._ She was here, she was real, he hadn't... hadn't...

She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back soothingly, her own tears falling, chest aching. "Oh, Sherlock..."

"I thought... I thought I'd lost you again..." He'd had nightmares of Beth dying so often he'd already lost count, more times than he would ever admit to her, but _this_...

Her chest ached sharply then. _My poor, poor Sherlock_... "In your dream?"

Holmes nodded jerkily. "Y-you came to rescue me... Oh, Beth!" The words almost choked him: "I wouldn't go with you... just s-stood there while they..." He couldn't finish, more sobs wrenching free.

Her eyes widened—of all the nightmares she'd had, somehow none of them had ever been about what almost went wrong, at least that time. "Oh, honey…" She began to stroke his hair to calm him.

He rested his head on her shoulder, drawing deep, shuddering breaths. "They sh-shot you in front of me..." he whispered, "and I couldn't feel _anything_..." _A statue of ice where a human should have been..._ "You died and I didn't even _try_ to save you... I didn't even c-care...!"

She bit her lip, having to take a moment to digest that. In his dream, he hadn't felt anything? _Would he really have felt nothing if things_ had _played out like that?_ "...but that's not what happened... and that's all that matters..."

 _But it could have, and you know it..._ The numbness that bound him in his nightmare... had been horribly similar to what he'd actually felt when Beth came. How badly had he frightened her before she persuaded him to leave? "...I'm sorry, Beth..."

"Shh, sweetheart, you don't have anything to be sorry for—that's not what happened." _Thank goodness_...

 _Not what happened..._ Holmes tried to focus on Beth's voice, shut out everything else, arms tightening around her. "You must have wondered if... if you were already too late..." " _Who... who_ are _you?"_

She exhaled slowly, wishing she didn't have to revisit the memory. "…I did," she said softly. "I was… horrified. I didn't… I didn't expect..."

He lifted a trembling hand to stroke her hair. "If you hadn't told me about Mycroft..." As much as he hadn't wanted to believe it, Beth had never lied to him... and even then, he'd still been on the verge of ending it all.

She shivered and leaned into his touch, a tear slipping down her cheek. "…you wouldn't've come," she whispered.

He shook his head mutely, a lump in his throat. "And Moriarty would... would never have let you leave." Alive or dead... there would have been nothing left of either of them in the end.

She closed her eyes, trying desperately to keep calm for his sake. "…why…?" _Why wouldn't you come?_

"Because I believed it _was_ too late..." He shivered. "When you brought the plans back to London... up until then, I still had hope that there was a way to defeat Moriarty... but when solving the case didn't make any difference..." _"Whatever has happened, Holmes, it was not enough. I cannot sense even the faintest stirring in Time."_

She rubbed his back slowly, the motion soothing for her. "I didn't think there was any other way, either... I'd given up... until Sally figured out what was really going on."

 _Thank God..._ Feeling calmer now, he lifted his head to look her in the face. "And by the time you came to my rescue... I'd learnt too well from Moriarty... to think that there was any way back for me." _"Do not expend your life or your pity upon one who neither needs nor wishes for it..."_

She bit her lip again, a chill running down her spine at the memory. "You rebounded awfully quickly, though."

He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. "Well, I suppose... even the thickest walls will crack in a strong enough earthquake." _Staring unseeing at the floor, Beth gently gripping his shoulders..._ Mycroft was dead... _"I'm sorry..."_ "I spent so long trying to become that 'brain without a heart', I thought I'd succeeded... but I was wrong." _"I must be out of my mind..."_ "It took you to show me that, Beth... and I'm ashamed to admit that I resented you for it."

Leaning again into his touch, she sighed. "Nobody enjoys being told they're wrong." It explained, though, why he'd initially been so snappish at her half the time.

"Nonetheless, I am sorry I was such a... such a jerk." What better word was there? "The more I shut myself away... the easier it became to lie to myself, pretend that none of it was my fault. But then going on the run together, I had the truth staring me right in the face..." A continent torn apart by war, innocent people starving and afraid for their lives... "And it terrified me."

"Aw, honey... I'm glad it did, though." She hadn't _wanted_ him to have to go through that, but she'd also known that he had to, if he was ever going to make things right again. What had been beginning to scare her was just how long that had taken...

"I was afraid that... admitting I had helped to create all that chaos... meant that Mycroft... that his death was my fault, too..." The tears were spilling over again. "I couldn't face that, Beth, I couldn't... I'm so sorry..."

She tightened her hold on him, heart aching at the pain in his voice. "Sherlock, Mycroft's death was _not your fault_. Sweetheart, I'm pretty sure Moriarty would have killed him eventually, no matter what. He couldn't go further than he was without clashing with your brother." She wouldn't tell him, but that was what _she_ had told herself, too. Because at first, she'd wondered if Moran had only been there because he'd been chasing _her_ , and not for Mycroft's sake.

Holmes shuddered at that, but nodded, breath hitching. "I-I know... I just..." It still hadn't been all that long since he'd found out, he could only remember crying for his brother the once... _How very typical – mourning for him as often as you thought about him... Stop it! I... I_ _ **couldn't**_ _help him... That's not the point, though, is it? You never even tried..._

"I know, I know," Beth soothed, and kissed his cheek. "Do you need to cry some more?"

He nodded mutely, face crumpling, and buried his face in her shoulder. Worse even than the remorse of neglecting his brother, when it had mattered most... was the bitter knowledge that he could never ask Mycroft to forgive him.

She rubbed his back with one hand and stroked his hair with the other, heart hurting, her own tears falling freely. "Oh, sweetheart..." What she wouldn't give to take away his pain... It hurt so much, seeing him like this.

Cried out at last, he lay exhausted in Beth's arms, grateful beyond words for her and the eiderdown's comforting embrace. It was almost worth the occasional nightmare to have this to come back to...

She kissed his hair and murmured, "It's all right, sweetheart… we're all all right... "

Holmes gave her a faint, watery smile. His eyelids were growing heavier, he strove to keep them open, he didn't want to sleep again...

She noticed, understanding the feeling all too well, and nuzzled him gently. "What do you need, love?"

The sound of her voice... "Tell me about Christmas, Beth... in your time?"

She paused—where to begin? "Well," she started softly, "it's a pretty big deal. It's… very commercial, in a lot of ways… as soon as Halloween is cleared away, Christmas comes rolling in… And Christmas music is definitely a super-genre in and of itself…"

He snuggled closer, smiling sleepily. "What about your family?"

She smiled at the memories—Christmas always was the best time of year. Daddy and Geoff always tried their hardest to be home... "Christmas is the one thing we totally go all out for. Wreaths and a tree and lots of Christmas lights and cookies… Mama is baking cookies all December… and… I don't know, it's just always been important for my family."

"Sounds wond'rful..." he murmured, half asleep now despite his best efforts.

Her smile softened—Sherlock was so adorable like this. "Mm-hmm… There are lots of Christmas movies, too… I want you to see all of my favorites, eventually..."

"Mm... I'd like that..." Warm and safe in her arms, his eyes simply refused to stay open any longer...

She snuggled down a little further, and kissed his cheek softly. "Sleep well, love," she whispered.

* * *

Watson had been staring at the ceiling for some time after Sally and Kathy had fallen asleep, his mind far too full of his write-up of the Bruce-Partington case to let him sleep yet.

"Beth...!"

Even muffled by the floorboards, the cry of terror gave Watson a dreadful start, sitting up automatically and listening in dread as his friend's nightmare – what else _could_ it be? – audibly grew worse.

Sally stirred, her sleep disrupted by the sudden motion, and opened her eyes, blinking blearily up at her husband. "John?"

Grateful for the dark, he lay back down and kissed her hair, murmuring in what he hoped was a soothing tone, "It's all right, love... go back to sleep." At least Kathy still seemed oblivious.

Sally shook her head—even only half-conscious, she could hear something off in his tone. "What's wrong, love?"

Some of the tension left him as he heard Beth calling to her husband, whose sobbing abruptly ceased. "Holmes," he said softly, sadly. _My poor friend..._

Sally roused herself further, distantly hearing Beth's voice and then Sherlock's. "Oh..." She reached for his hand, squeezing it reassuringly, then leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Beth will take care of him..." Beth had taken care of _Sally_ when she would have nightmares.

"I know." He squeezed back, sighing deeply; knowing that Beth could comfort Holmes far better than he could right now didn't stop him wishing he could do _something_.

She nuzzled him softly. "Go back to sleep; it's all right..."

Watson kissed her, smiling faintly at the role reversal. He put his arm around her, trying to relax, though sleep now seemed even more unlikely. "He had such... terrible nightmares after he came back to London... but he'd never talk about them. It wasn't until the Doctor took us away that I understood why..."

She nestled into John's hold and frowned. "Why?"

"Holmes learned in Tibet that, when travelling with the Doctor, wonder and horror go hand in hand." This was hardly a good moment to tell Sally about the shadow demons... "When the Doctor renewed his offer, he wouldn't even accept at first. He tried to warn me... but I was so excited that I barely heeded him."

"Oh..." Somehow, the fact that Sally had been introduced to a larger universe through monstrous angels had never really deterred her from wanting to see more of what was out there. She'd had the occasional nightmare herself, of course, thanks to the Angels... but it was something she hadn't really considered before: were the adventures worth the nightmares? "I can't really blame you." Not for being excited, not for wanting to see more. She didn't doubt that Sherlock had been almost as excited himself.

"I suppose every Companion has to go through that, ah, initiation." Watson smiled wistfully to himself – he didn't miss the horror, but the wonder was proving hard to give up. More than a few times since, he'd pricked up his ears at sounds that had been achingly similar to the TARDIS landing...

"I guess," Sally said softly. She and Beth had certainly gotten very rough, very personal 'initiations', more grit and less wonder...

He kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry, Sally... I wish we could have stayed longer."

She closed her eyes, not wanting to make John feel worse than he already did about that. "Mm... me, too."

Well, you _were_ making certain plans when you first came back to Baker Street... "What would you say," he murmured thoughtfully, "to taking a holiday abroad next year?"

She opened her eyes, longing warring in her with practicality. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea..." They were back in Real Life now, and in Real Life, you had to be responsible. _Oh, like the adult you barely were before you decided to run off with a man you hardly knew?_ _Yeah, well, it's a bit different now: I'm a mum now_.

"Because of Kathy?" He wouldn't normally consider travelling with such a young infant, but their daughter had already proved she could handle unusual living conditions – and only the roughest ocean crossings could compare with flying in the TARDIS!

"Yes..." Sally was also thinking about money, and realising that she really didn't know very much about her husband's state of finances. _It hadn't mattered much until recently! Maybe not, but Sherlock did have a point—you two really did rush things_.

"We'll work it out, sweetheart. I did promise you that you wouldn't be trapped at home, remember?"

She laughed slightly. "That feels like a long time ago..." Forever ago, really.

"I'm sure," Watson said softly. He didn't know if he would ever really forgive himself for not being there for her during her pregnancy; he'd missed so much, he feared sometimes too much...

"We do need to talk, John," she said softly. "About the future in general… and some things in the present. For a long time, it didn't matter… but now it really should, especially since we do have a baby."

"Mm... now, or leave it till the morning?"

She sighed tiredly, her eyelids heavy. "In the morning, please…"

"All right –" kissing her hair again; "I'm sorry I woke you."

She closed her eyes and nestled in closer still. "It's okay..."

"I love you..." he whispered tenderly, and slowed his breathing to match hers; he still couldn't sleep yet, but at least he had the pleasure of holding his beloved while she did.

* * *

After breakfast, the Watsons returned to their room, Sally intending to have the talk she'd been wanting to have. To occupy her hands, however, she was trying her luck at mending—without terribly much luck, even after nine or so months' experience in Frozen Time. _I can wield a camera but not a needle_. At last, she began hesitantly, "John, um... we've never talked about this, but... what, ah..." She coloured, kicking herself mentally—why did she have to get so flustered just talking with her husband? _You'd think I'd be over this by now!_ "What's your financial situation like, exactly?"

 _Ah._ Watson looked up from the bed, Kathy on his knee and playing tug-of-war with his fingers. "Well, we won't be out on the street in the foreseeable future, if that's what you were worried about last night." Since I sold my practice last year, I've been able to live comfortably off the interest, together with my pension and the royalty cheques from my publishers." Come to think of it, he really should get around to choosing a new story for the _Strand_ some time; the Baskerville case might make a good serial...

Embarrassed, Sally turned her attention to the mess she was making with her hands. "Of course," she murmured, "I should have thought of that..."

"Well, it won't be enough to support the three of us indefinitely – in the unlikely event that we don't have any more children." It was also high time he and Holmes consulted with Mrs. Hudson over increasing the rent; five adults and a growing infant would definitely put a strain on the household accounts at the present rate. "And as Kathy gets older, we'll certainly be needing a place of our own." And this time around he was going to make certain that the Holmeses were regular visitors, and vice versa.

Sally nodded. "And in the meantime?"

"It looks like I'll be going back into practice," Watson smiled. "And thanks to Kathy –" kissing his daughter on the head, "my old injuries don't disqualify me from operating anymore. I can apply for a new surgeon's license."

Sally's eyes widened—she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of that! _You were too happy just to have him_ alive _..._ "I hadn't thought of that… John, that's wonderful!"

He nodded, beaming. "I've heard that Dr. Andrews over in Kensington is getting on a bit, starting to think of retirement. I thought, after New Year, I might ask to become a junior partner." He chuckled at the thought. "Well, less senior, anyhow."

Smiling, she moved to sit beside him and rested her head on his formerly bad shoulder. Her husband could be a surgeon again, and that was beyond wonderful. _Thank you, Kathy_. "Sounds like a plan—a good start, anyway."

"Mm." He wound his free arm around her waist. "I'll be glad to go back to work again, I must admit." He would never admit it to Holmes, but one of the reasons he'd sold his practice in the first place was out of concern for his friend. With Beth helping to keep her husband in good health and from acting _too_ rashly – one could hope, after all! – Watson now felt much less apprehensive in dividing his attention.

"I'm sure..." To not be cooped up or idle... to have a job and a purpose... that would be lovely.

"And you, love? Any thoughts on what you'd like to do?" Sally had too much ambition for the domestic sphere alone, he knew; she'd need something more than raising a young Time Lady to occupy her.

"Well, I can still write here and there, get something out of my college degree, but… I would really like to go into photography." It would be something that would hopefully allow her to get out and explore.

He nodded enthusiastically. "That's a wonderful idea. Those pictures you took before the Holmeses' wedding were superb." Although his favourites were the ones taken by Beth of his two girls.

Sally beamed up at him. "Thanks. I… I've been taking photos for as long as I can remember. Almost. My first camera was a disposable one my gran got me for my sixth birthday—I don't know what she thought she was doing, giving a camera to a six-year-old. But I was hooked," she added softly. After that, Gran never stopped encouraging her photography, buying her more film and paying for it to be developed, and then, eventually, giving Sally a digital camera once it was clear that film cameras were becoming obsolete.

"Well, now I know what to get you for Christmas..." His wife's eyes had lit up at the display in the Delatouche studio's front window, gaze lingering on one model in particular.

In the present, she rolled her eyes, amused but feigning exasperation. "You're not supposed to tell me things like that!"

"Oh, all right, I'll find something else."

She groaned—he could definitely be a wicked tease sometimes. "Joooooohn..."

He kissed her, grinning. "As well." Their first family Christmas, and he intended to make it a memorable one.

She had to smile, kissing him back and resting her head on his shoulder again. "You're going to spoil me," she murmured.

"Absolutely." Watson smiled tenderly down at Kathy, stroking her cheek. "And what about you, wee lass? What would you like from Father Christmas?"

Kathy looked very relaxed and content, in that stage where she'd probably soon and easily fall asleep. Sally chuckled, and said softly, "Maybe ask her next year."

 **To Be Continued...**

 **in 'Compliments of the Season'**

* * *

 **Ria:** And to think Sherlock's nightmare was once going to be the end of 'The Dying Detective'... I'm sooo glad Sky suggested a rewrite!

It feels very strange, finally coming to the end of Season 1, after the better part of five years. What a journey it's been... We hope you've enjoyed it as much as we have! And now, sit back and enjoy the Christmas episode!


End file.
